Trust Me But Don't Thank Me Yet
by stickdonkey
Summary: In Goblin Town, Thorin offers himself in Kili's place to protect his nephew from torture. However, even when the Goblin agrees to the substitution it's not enough to prevent Fili and Kili's inclusion or to save them from mental trauma. In the aftermath of Goblin Town, issues that had been simmering between them for 70 years boil over. Will things between them mend or remain broken?
1. A Kingly Substitution

**Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no claim to. **

**Warning: Emotional and physical torture abound in this one as the Great Goblin tries to get information from our favorite Durins.**

"Why have you entered my kingdom so heavily armed?" The Great Goblin asked looking up from the sword in his lap to glare at Thorin, the dwarves and Bilbo. "Do you come seeking war?"

"We did not intend to enter your kingdom at all," Thorin said majestically, or as majestically as he could while bound and being held between two goblins. "We were merely traveling through the mountains. We never meant to come here."

"Lies!" The Great Goblin hissed. "Besides, all of the Misty Mountains are my kingdom. Why were you traveling?" Thorin looked away. He would not tell the goblin the reason for his travels through the mountains. It was none of his business. The entirety of the Misty Mountains was not his domain.

"You will not tell me?" the Goblin asked. Silence again met his question. "If that's the case, perhaps a bit of pain will loosen your tongues. Bring me the youngest!"

"Wait!" Thorin called as goblins began to grab his youngest nephew and drag him forward. He couldn't stand the idea of seeing Kíli in pain. There was no way that he could allow it to happen if he could help it. "He knows nothing," Thoirn said, knowing that his words would hurt the company but preferring that to seeing them tortured. "None of them do."

"They don't know anything?" The Goblin King asked skeptically.

"Look at them!" Thoirn scoffed gesturing with his head at his rag-tag company—admittedly looking worse for wear since their capture. "Would _you_ have told them anything? I am the only one that could tell you anything. We dwarves are secretive by nature, you know this. Why would I have shared information with _them?_"

"So _you_ will be the one to tell me what you are doing in my kingdom?" the Goblin demanded.

"I will tell you nothing," Thorin replied lifting his head in defiance, "unless you can read the answer written in blood on the ground. Hurting them will do nothing to help you in that goal. If I don't trust them with _why_ we are here how much can I care for them?"

"You will tell us," the Great Goblin replied gesturing with his head. In response, Kíli was thrown back into the mass of dwarves and Thorin was grabbed and pulled forward. He offered only minimal resistance as they stripped him of his armor and clothing. He didn't want them to decide that one of the smaller members of the company would be less trouble. He even resisted the urge to fight them as they bound him between two poles.

"NO!" Kíli cried attempting to rush forward. Only to be stopped by Fíli, who had seen their uncle's plan and realized what Thorin was willing to sacrifice for them. But Kíli didn't see the warning or understanding in Fíli's eyes. His own were too filled with panic at the idea that he would see his uncle tortured. He hadn't known that the quest would be like this. If he had, he never would have left home.

"Hush!" Thorin replied in Khuzdul. "I will tell them nothing and would not see you harmed. Don't do anything foolish." The Great Goblin grabbed his hair and gave it a sharp tug causing him to grimace in pain, though no cry left his throat.

"None of that now," the Goblin said. "No secrets. What did you tell the boy?"

"I told him to be silent before I cut his foolish tongue from his head," Thorin lied. Turning his head roughly to the side as the goblin released his hair. The goblin looked between the two of them and his eyes widened as he put the pieces together.

"I see," the Goblin said grinning triumphantly down at Thorin. "He is your son!"

"I have no sons!" Thorin spat, the bitterness in his voice shocking them all. They hadn't realized that Thoirn desired children. He had always seemed content—or as content as he ever was—with Fíli and Kíli.

"But he _is_ a close relative," the Goblin pressed. "A nephew, perhaps?" As Thorin looked away the Goblin smiled. "This is too delicious! Bring the boy!"

"NO!" Thorin roared pulling on his bonds in vain. "You said that you would leave him out of this. He knows nothing!"

"Perhaps that is true and perhaps it is not," the Great Goblin replied with a shrug. "That does not concern me. Not really." As Kíli was brought to him, he grabbed a small knife and roughly cut the youngster's bonds. He felt that one dwarf should pose no threat to them.

"I have a very special task for you, lad," the Goblin said leaning towards Kíli conspiratorially, though he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear him. "Your uncle has information that I need. And _you_ are going to get it for me. I want you to take this knife and cut your uncle. Shallow cuts if you please, we want to hurt him not kill him . . . yet. When he talks, you can stop."

"I can't," Kíli gasped looking at Thoirn with wide, desperate eyes. "I can't do that."

"If you don't," the Goblin threatened, "then you can join him. Your pain as well as his own might convince him to talk more quickly."

"Do it," Thorin said looking at Kíli trying to mask the fear that he could feel in his face at the thought of what would happen if he couldn't get the boy to comply. "Kíli, just do it."

"I can't, Uncle," Kíli sobbed mistaking the fear in his uncle's eyes for fear for Thorin's wellbeing rather than for his own. "I can't."

"You have to," Thorin said in a comforting a voice as he could manage at the time. Kíli _had _to do this. He couldn't bear to see the boy hurt. "It'll be alright. I swear to you, it'll be alright." Thorin didn't intend to be in this position for long. He was only stalling for time. Gandalf had been with them and would appear soon. He hoped. But, he had no way to tell Kíli, and hoped he would figure it out on his own.

"Do it," Throin breathed. Kíli's face crumpled and he extended his shaking hand and laid the blade on his uncle's chest. He looked up at Thorin, his brown eyes pleading him to do something to stop this and what was unmistakably a tear clinging to his lower lashes. Thorin nodded and with a sob, Kíli brought the knife across Throin's chest in a shallow arc.

The King tried to control the way his body flinched at the pain of the knife passing through his flesh but couldn't mask it entirely. His pained hiss gave it away and Kíli dropped the knife, placing shaking hands over the cut and sobbing. He couldn't believe that he had just cut his uncle, the only father he had ever known. Thorin's blood was on his hands and he had been the one to shed it.

"I'm sorry," he kept saying as his hands tried to force the blood back into his Uncle's body. It wasn't really that much blood. The cut had been a shallow one, but to the traumatized heir of Durin it may as well have been a river.

"Kíli," Thorin tried to get his attention. "Kíli! I'm fine. I'm fine. Now pick the knife back up." The young dwarf shook his head passionately.

"I won't," Kíli said glaring defiantly at his uncle. "I won't do it. They can't make me."

"They can," Thorin replied into his ear in a voice that was little more than a whisper. "Please, don't make me watch that. Just do as they ask. It'll only be for a little while. Only a little pain and it'll be over." Kíli knelt to retrieve the knife; his eyes looking up at his uncle were so lost that Thorin wondered if seeing the boy in physical pain would actually be worse. He felt horrible for forcing Kíli to do it but he couldn't do otherwise.

"That's a good lad," Thorin said swallowing as he felt Kíli place the knife against his flesh again. The boy's hand was shaking so severely that it caused the knife to prick him accidently.

"Again," the Goblin instructed. "Cut him again. Longer this time. From here to here." He instructed gesturing from his own collarbone to his hip. "Deeper over the chest and shallower over the rest. Don't want to cause too much damage yet," the goblin instructed.

"Uncle," Kíli pleaded. He knew that he couldn't do it. Well, he could but he didn't want to. He didn't want to cause his uncle any more pain. Not that he wanted to experience pain either, but he could handle that better than this. He wasn't sure that he could live with himself for this. Rather than reply, Kíli felt a sob rise up his throat as Thorin pressed himself into the blade, drawing blood once more before looking at his nephew levelly. Drawing a shaky breath Kíli began to move the knife, following the path that the goblin had indicated. There was more blood this time.

Thorin ground his teeth together at the pain of it. Kíli probably thought that he was helping by moving the blade so slowly, but in reality he was only making it worse. He wished that he could tell the boy to just get it over with, but Kíli was barely hanging in there as it was, one word, one _hint_ of the pain that he was causing would be enough to tip him over the edge and cause him to refuse. No matter the pain the boy caused him, Thorin would say nothing. He would not make this any harder on Kíli than he had to.

Fíli watched in horror as his brother brought the knife to their uncle's flesh again and again at the urging of both the Goblin and Thorin himself. Kíli was sobbing uncontrollably and begging Thorin to let him stop. Fíli knew that was making it all the more difficult for their Uncle, who he could see was using all of his self-control to keep from crying out. His arms straining against his bonds and his breath beginning to come in pants. Thorin wouldn't be able to restrain himself much longer and when he cried out nothing in this world would persuade Kíli to continue. Fíli knew that then he would have to watch them both in pain and that he could do nothing to stop it. Begging for clemency would accomplish nothing and he would not betray his uncle by revealing the cause of their journey. He was soon saved having to do either thing by the smallest member of their company.

"Please," Bilbo begged, tears in his voice. "This is inhumane. Stop this."

"Halfling!" Thorin snapped in warning before Bilbo could say something that he couldn't take back.

"Don't worry," The Great Goblin said gently leaning down towards Bilbo and stroking his face delicately. "We will stop this, as soon as he tells me what I want to know."

"You'll never get it that way," Bilbo replied, sniffling slightly. "The boy will never cause the kind of pain that you need to get Thorin to talk. He said himself that he doesn't care about us enough to tell us what is going on. Why would a little emotional pain sway him? Dwarves care for nothing but gold. Not even kin." Indignation welled within the dwarves as Bilbo spoke. Did he really think so little of them that he would say such a thing to their enemies? It was only once the Great Goblin replied that they realized he was trying to save Kíli from further emotional damage.

"I hadn't thought of it that way," the Goblin replied. "Boy, give me the knife." Kíli gave it to him thankfully not realizing that he was giving the Goblin the means to torture his uncle. "Put him with the others," the Goblin ordered. They didn't rebind him but just shoved him back towards the mass of dwarves, where he clung to Fíli and sobbed heartrendingly into his brother's chest. With his hands still bound all Fíli could do was lay his head against his brothers and whisper calming words.

"That was some quick thinking, lad," Balin whispered to Bilbo. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Bilbo replied watching as the Goblin circled Thorin like an overgrown vulture. Despite what he had said, Kíli had done enough damage to be going on. The King's chest was covered in his own blood, and it was clear from the set of his shoulders and jaw that he was in pain. And that had been with a torturer that was fond of him. Bilbo hated to think of what he had condemned the King to endure through sparing his nephew, but the look of thanks in Thorin's eyes told him that the King was at least grateful . . . for now.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**I have decided that this fandom is absolutely determined to send me to hell. It keeps generating plotlines that are vile, but make for good stories. Or it could have been the fever . . . yeah, fever dreams . . . that was it. **

**Anyway, tell me what y'all think of this one. . . I don't even know what I think and would love to know if you think this is worth any effort to continue.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	2. Defiance and Consequences

The Great Goblin circled Thorin, examining the handiwork of his nephew. Despite the blood, the cuts were shallow. The boy had done no real damage; even the deepest one had not managed to cut to the bone. The Goblin parted the sides of the wound with a disapproving frown.

"We'll have to work on his skills," he muttered to Thorin while the dwarf winced in pain as his wound was reopened. "The boy would benefit from a lesson."

"Leave him out of this," Thorin snarled viciously, fearing that the lesson would not be an object lesson but rather one written into Kíli's flesh. He knew that all it would take would be one cry of pain or even just the sight of his nephew's blood to make him tell the Goblin anything he wanted to know to make it stop. He could not bear to see Kíli in pain. He could only hope that the Great Goblin didn't realize that fact.

"I will," the Goblin replied. "For now anyway." Thorin couldn't help the relief that flooded through him at the promise, weak as it was. Kíli was safe for now. With that knowledge, Thorin steeled himself to endure anything the Goblin could inflict on him.

"I've noticed something odd about you, dwarf," the Great Goblin said as he circled Thorin again. "You have no tattoos. Every dwarf that I have ever seen had at least one. Most of them were hidden, but I saw them. You, however, don't. We will have to remedy this."

At the Goblin's words, both Thorin and Fíli breathed a sigh of relief. Tattoos weren't horribly painful. If Kíli could have heard the words over his sobs he would have been relieved as well. But he didn't. All he could feel was Fíli relax slightly and nuzzle his head comfortingly. He leaned into the caress, feeling guilty for receiving comfort from his brother. He didn't feel that he deserved it. He was vile. He still couldn't believe that he had cut his uncle to save his own skin. It was wrong.

And as it turned out, so were Thorin and Fíli. The Great Goblin gestured to one of the others and they brought over Thorin's sword, which the Goblin drew from its scabbard and placed in the fire nearest to Thorin.

"I don't have a tattoo kit, I'm afraid," the Goblin said with a malicious smile. "But I feel that the inscription on this sword should work well enough, don't you?" At his words, Fíli looked at his uncle in fear. The Goblin didn't intend to tattoo Thorin: he intended to brand him. Thorin caught his eyes and shook his head telling his nephew to keep silent. This was still endurable. Fíli or Kíli interfering and getting injured was not.

"No," Fíli breathed just as the Great Goblin drew the red hot sword from the fire and moved behind Thorin. He closed his eyes, he couldn't watch as the sword was brought to his uncle's flesh. This was too much.

"What?" Kíli asked desperately, lifting his head from his brother's neck for the first time and turning to look at his uncle. Fíli wanted nothing more that to stop Kíli from looking, but with his hands bound could do nothing. He winced as he heard Kíli's sharp intake of breath. And then Kíli was moving.

"No!" Fíli yelled trying to stop his brother from charging the Great Goblin. His eyes flew open and he dove forward, trying to tackle him, but he missed and Kíli continued forward.

"Kíli, stop!" Thorin called, just as his nephew was tackled by goblins and thrown back towards his brother. The dwarf King breathed a sigh of relief that Kíli was still unharmed. That could have gone much worse.

"Interesting," the Great Goblin purred before pressing the heated sword to the flesh across Thorin's shoulders. "I find it strange that you care more for his well being that your own," he breathed into Thorin's ear as the dwarf convulsed and panted in an attempt to escape the burning heat of the metal and the smell of burnt flesh and hair began to fill the air.

"Did your strange pet lie to me?" He asked pressing the blade more firmly against Thorin, drawing blood at the edge of the burn with the sharpened edge of the sword. "I think it might be time to bring the boy back into this." Thorin remained silent, knowing that anything he said would be the wrong thing. Even though his mind was beginning to become a cloud of pain he still knew enough not to give Kíli over to pain and death. Then in a moment of relief, the pain was gone, mostly, and he could think clearly once more. And his first thought was that Gandalf needed to hurry.

Fíli, however was not in the least bit relieved. He had seen the way that the Goblin had looked from Kíli's frantic eyes to their uncle in speculation and did not like the smile on his face at all. Fíli was only sure of two things. The first was that whatever could make the Goblin smile like that would be nothing good and the second was that there was no way that he would touch Kíli as long as Fíli still breathed. It was bad enough that he was harming their uncle, but he would not stand by and watch as they hurt his little brother.

But for the time being, the Great Goblin had no interest in touching the youngest heir of Durin. He was too busy admiring his own work on the eldest. But it seemed to him that something was missing. It almost seemed wrong to brand him with the name of a great sword. It needed an extra inscription, a footnote almost. Without warning, he drew the little knife he had given to the boy and roughly stabbed it into the flesh of Thorin's back before wrenching it viciously and beginning to carve words in the black speech.

The only warning Thorin had had been the horrified widening of his nephew's eyes before the dagger was buried in his flesh. It hadn't been enough to prepare himself and despite his best efforts, he felt a cry of pain rise up his throat. He tried to stifle it, but was unable to do so and heard it echo around in the cavern before dying out. He watched as Kíli's face crumpled once more and the pain of knowing that he had caused it to happen with his own weakness hurt almost more than the knife that was carving his flesh and spilling his blood. Almost. He was ashamed of himself that he felt relieved when Kíli once more buried his face in his brother's neck and Thorin was spared having to see his devastation. Because the pain was becoming unbearable and small cries were beginning to come from his throat though he kept his mouth closed to prevent their passage.

When the Great Goblin finally finished his grim inscription, he walked around to look at Thorin's face, hoping to see the pain in his eyes and perhaps, tears on his face. He was disappointed to see that Thorin's eyes were haunted, but it was not with physical pain. He was still looking at the boy with what could only be regret burring in their blue depths. It was now time to bring him back into the game. The dwarf King might just be ready to talk. It wasn't true that the fun had to stop once the words had been said.

"Bring me the boy," the Great Goblin ordered looking at Thorin as he did, and enjoying the hatred and sorrow that entered his eyes at the words. Immediately a goblin reached down to grab Kíli's hair and use it as a handle to separate him from his brother only to pull his hand back with a yelp as Fíli sank his teeth into the goblin's arm.

"Keep your hands off him," Fíli snarled glaring up at the goblin with a feral light in his eyes. The goblins would not be touching his brother again if he could help it. He hated the fact that he could taste its vile blood in his mouth, but his teeth were to only weapon that he had and he _would_ use them.

"What's this?" the Great Goblin asked turning to face the commotion.

"The blonde dwarf, Your Malevolence," the goblin who Fíli had bitten replied. "He bit me when I tried to bring you the dark one." To further his point, the goblin showed his King the two semi-circles of oozing black blood on his arm where Fíli's teeth had punctured him.

"Interesting," the Goblin King mused. His eyes took in the way that Kíli clung to Fíli and the protectiveness in the blue eyes of the blonde one. Were they lovers? Something in Fíli's gaze reminded him of someone and he looked quickly at Thorin seeing the same hate in him that was in the blonde dwarf, and the same eyes.

"How many nephews did you bring on this trip, Thorin Oakenshield?" the Goblin asked, smiling in satisfaction as Thorin flinched at the words. The dwarf King had hoped that Fíli's identity would remain unknown. Then he, at least, would have been spared the anguish of being forced to take part in this.

"Do I have the entire remnant of the line of Durin in my home?" the Goblin asked rhetorically. "Could I end all of this madness once and for all?" The fear in Thorin's eyes told him that he had guessed the truth. In one move he could end the line of Durin forever. But that would be no fun.

"Separate them," the Great Goblin commanded, "and bring me the dark one." It took five goblins to carry out his command—one to hold Fíli's hair so that he could not turn his head to bite the others and four (two each) to pry the brothers apart. As his hands were pried from Fíli and they were drug apart, Kíli sobbed pathetically and called to his brother grasping desperately for him. At his cries, Fíli redoubled his efforts to be free, but on his knees, with his hands bound behind him and in the grip of three goblins there was nothing he could do and he had to watch helplessly as Kíli was dragged to the Great Goblin.

"Kíli," he breathed, wishing that there was some way that he could help his brother and his uncle and feeling absolutely worthless. He had sworn to his mother that he would look out for Kíli and there was nothing that he could do. He was useless.

It was a sentiment that Thorin shared as he watched Kíli be dropped at the feet of the Great Goblin. He tried to school his features into a mask of polite indifference, or even hate, but could feel the pain etched there that refused to leave. He only hoped that the Goblin thought that it was pain over his wounds and not pain at having failed his nephew. If the Goblin King had any idea what Kíli and Fíli truly meant to him things would go very badly for them.

"Come here, boy," the Goblin said grabbing Kíli by the hair and dragging him to his feet seemingly oblivious to the cry that he gave at the rough treatment. A cry that pierced both his brother and his uncle like a dagger.

"Please," Kíli begged. "I'll come. You don't have to drag me." The plaintive tone was too much for Fíli. He had never heard his brother speak in such a manner, even when trying to placate their mother or uncle when he was in trouble. It made Fíli begin to sob quietly.

"I'd prefer to keep a hand on you," the Goblin replied. "No offence, but I don't trust you." While they were talking, the Goblin had been dragging Kíli towards Thorin. Once they were close enough, he forced Kíli's nose to one of the cuts on Thorin's chest.

"What is wrong with this?" the Great Goblin asked using the hand that wasn't imbedded in Kíli's hair to gesture at the wound.

"It exists?" Kíli asked sarcastically. Fíli felt a wry smile cross his face at his brother's attitude, but felt it fall as the Goblin wrenched his hair causing him to cry out again.

"Not the time for sarcasm, lad," Thorin whispered, hoping that Kíli would hear him and listen.

"No," the Great Goblin replied turning Kíli to face him and speaking as though he was talking to an imbecile. "The problem is that it is shallow. It has already stopped bleeding. It is a good strategy if you want to torture someone for an extended period of time, but that is not my goal. I just want answers and deeper wounds cause more pain."

"Take the knife," the Goblin commanded offering Kíli the handle. Kíli looked at his uncle hesitantly not knowing what to do. The second his eyes left the Goblin's face, the knife flashed out and ran across his arm, leaving a line of blood and fire in its wake. Kíli cried out and covered the wound with his hand. Both Thorin and Fíli were distraught to see blood flowing from between his fingers.

"You will do as I say," the Great Goblin said. "Do you understand me?" Kíli nodded, clenching his teeth and glaring up at the Goblin. "Good. Now, take the knife." Kíli complied, releasing the cut on his other arm and feeing the blood begin to flow freely down his arm, slicking his hand and dripping down his fingers.

At the sight of Kíli's blood dripping onto the floor, Thorin felt furry flood his veins. How _dare_ that goblin draw Kíli's blood?! It had been had enough that he had drawn Thorin's own, but to shed his nephew's as well! This was unacceptable! Where was that blasted wizard?

Fíli wasn't angry. He was horrified. He had never seen his brother bleed before. Not like this. There were great ruby drops falling in the firelight. Too many of them. It was wrong. He looked to his uncle, begging him to do something out of habit but then remembered that Thorin could do nothing to save them. No one could.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are! By popular request, a new chapter. I was actually surprised by the reaction to this one. And am very glad that so many of you seem to be enjoying this.**

**Thank you to everyone who added this story to your favorites or alerts.**

**And an extra special thank you to:**

**Lady Laran:**** that was a smart move, wasn't it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter despite the lack of Bilbo.**

**Vault108:**** That's what I was going for and I'm glad that that came across :) I will continue this and try to live up to its potential. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Mzzmarie:**** I'm glad that you loved it! I tend to live on the angsty side of literature . . . I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Baccadoro:**** I'm glad that you loved it! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Purestrongpoem:**** Thank you! and yep, in the book he did get captured with them. They lost him on the way out of the caves. (But I could be wrong as well . . . it's been a while since I read that part of the book as well)**

**Guest:**** I'm glad that you love the plot! And thank you so much! I try very hard to convey emotions well and am glad that you think I am doing a good job. I'm sorry that it took a bit, I work during the weekends. Hopefully it was worth the wait.**

**Dwli:**** I'm glad that you felt that this was worth continuing! And glad that my writing style appeals to you I love hearing things like that! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

**Elleran1969:**** Is that a good thing? I hope so but thank you for your review either way!**

**Tripping55:**** I will continue it! I'm glad that you are enjoying it. I was surprised when I did a search the other day and realized that no one had done one like this yet. . . and I agree. The boys will be completely traumatized. And I don't see Thorin allowing much coddling . . . but it might be able to be arranged ;) I will write more and I hope that you continue to enjoy it.**

**Aruraina:**** I'm glad that you believe that it is worth continuing. Sorry that it wasn't exactly soon, but I hope that it was worth the wait!**

**CovenantGirlLoki:**** I don't believe so. Does writing it make me a terrible person? Either way, I am glad that you are enjoying it!**

**HobbitLover4eva:**** I'm glad that think it should be continued! And this will totally be centered on the Durins. Have no fear! I hope that you enjoy it!**

**Well, that's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you think (even if you hate it) so please leave me a review if you have the time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	3. Coercion Has Many Forms

Even though no one could do anything to help, it didn't mean that no one tried.

"Why do you need the boy?" Bilbo asked desperately. It had worked the first time. Perhaps he could trick the Goblin once more. "He already failed once. Is it really necessary for him to fail again?"

"Gag that creature," the Goblin said looking a Bilbo with a withering glare. "He had already lied to me once. I wish to hear no more from him." As a goblin grabbed the hobbit's hair to carry out his order he turned back to the dwarves in front of him.

"Now that that's taken care of," the Great Goblin said. "Cut here" he ran a finger along Thorin's rib cage, showing the exact path that he wanted. "Deeply. I want to see bone before the blood covers it." Kíli nodded and placed the knife against his uncle's flesh, hearing his pained gasps that were almost sobs. As he looked at the wounds already littering his torso, Kíli felt bile rise up the back of his throat. He couldn't do it. He couldn't have more of his uncle's blood on his hands. He just couldn't bear it.

With a clatter, Kíli dropped the knife before grabbing Thorin's face between his hands and resting his forehead against his uncle's.

"I'm sorry," Kíli sobbed shaking his head sadly. "I can't. I-I can't do this anymore. I'm so sorry. I can-can't hurt you anymore. I'm s-sorry."

"No" Thorin breathed, horrified. "You have to. Pick the knife back up Kíli. Please! Just pick it back up."

"No," Kíli replied, shaking his head tears in his eyes and a sad smile on his face. "I'm sorry, Uncle. I can't do as you ask this time." Thorin had just enough time to take in his smile before it was contorted into a grimace of pain. The Goblin had grabbed his wounded arm and was applying pressure to the wound. Thorin watched helplessly as his nephew's brown eyes clouded with pain and he sank to his knees as a hoarse cry passed his lips.

"Now," the Goblin said releasing his arm roughly, "pick it up." Kíli glared up at him with a defiance that shocked Thorin. He hadn't known that the boy had it in him, that or the hatred he now saw in him. There was pure unadulterated hatred burning in Kíli's eyes as he cradled his wounded arm to his chest, but his head was held high as he answered the Goblin's order.

"No," Kíli replied, his voice firm and his tone making it clear that he would not change his mind. With a growl, the Goblin aimed a kick at Kíli's ribs that connected with a thud and caused Kíli to fall to the floor and curl in on himself more: turning into a little ball with his back to the Goblin and his vital organs shielded. With another, more vicious growl, the Great Goblin seized a whip from the goblin next to him and brought it down on Kíli. To his credit, he didn't cry out. However Fíli did and struggled more forcefully than ever against his goblin jailers. He knew that he _had_ to do something to help his baby brother. He _couldn't_ just stand by and watch.

As the Goblin raised his arm to bring down another blow, Thorin saw his opportunity to do something useful. He would be _damned_ if a goblin beat his nephew at his feet without at least attempting to stop it. Wrapping his hands around the ropes at his wrists, he jumped forward over Kíli and shielded the lad from the blow with his legs before pushing Kíli behind him by sliding him along the floor with the back of his legs. As the Goblin came around behind him, he repeated the action in reverse. His wounds protested the abrupt motion and the whip weals stung painfully, but it was better than seeing Kíli harmed and he would do it all day if he had to.

Suddenly the Goblin's fist was in his hair and his head was wrenched painfully back. "Do that again," the Great Goblin growled into his ear, "and I will hamstring you so that you can't. Do you understand me?" Thorin gave a curt nod. He turned his head away from Kíli and away from the company. The Goblin clapped him painfully on the shoulder and walked around him. Thorin clinched his fists and closed his eyes as he heard the hiss of the air as the whip descended on Kíli once more. This time he did cry out and it was everything Thorin could do to stop himself from telling the Goblin everything. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that Kíli would survive this and once they knew the nature of the quest, the goblins would probably kill them all. He also clung to the hope that Gandalf would be there soon—even if it wasn't soon enough for Thorin's taste since Kíli's cries were beginning to fill the air, each one hitting him like a physical blow.

_I'm sorry Dís,_ Thorin thought bitterly as he felt a tear escape from his eye. _I know that I swore to defend him with my life. I'm sorry that I couldn't prevent this._ Suddenly there were words amidst the cries of pain and Thorin felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest. Kíli was pleading.

"NO!" Kíli cried. "Please stop! I'll do whatever you want. Please!" One more blow fell and then it was silent, save for Kíli's continued sobs. Thorin risked a glance at them, terrified that he would see his nephew lying in a pool of his own blood, his skin a mutilated mess but all he saw was Kíli curled up on the ground sobbing. His clothes were still intact and Thorin could not see the extent of his injuries. But he could see Fíli's face. It was a horrified mask covered in tear streaks. Thorin felt his heart go out to his heir. Neither of them should have ever been placed in this position. It was his fault. He never should have brought them with him.

When the blows stopped falling, Kíli scrambled desperately for the knife at Thorin's feet and looked up at the Goblin desperately awaiting instructions. His limbs quivered with the after-effects of pain.

"Stand up," the Goblin ordered. Whimpering and wincing as he did so, Kíli stood, still facing the Goblin rather than his Uncle and Thorin could see the blood beginning to seep through his nephew's coat. He looked away from the sight in shame. It was his fault.

"Give me that," the Great Goblin said, snatching the knife from Kíli. "We're done with this for now. We'll just leave it here until we need it." With those words, he buried the knife into the muscle between Thorin's neck and shoulder. The dwarf King cried out in shock and his breath came in pants at the pain of it. He had not seen that coming.

"Then what—" Kíli began in a small lost voice before he was cut off.

"I have another task for you," The Goblin replied, grabbing Kíli by his wounded forearm and dragging him behind his uncle. "I never finished his tattoo," the Goblin said handing the young dwarf a bowl filled with blue powder. "Rub this into the wounds. You have to get it in deeply or the color won't take."

"What is it?" Kíli asked rubbing the blue powder between his fingers. It felt gritty but it had no odor. He had never seen it before in his life.

"Dye," the Great Goblin replied. "It won't kill him but it will make sure that my work remains visible forever." Kíli nodded and took a handful of the powder and gently applied it to his uncle's wounds. Thorin flinched at the contact and Kíli gritted his teeth in shame. He was too weak. He should have taken his beating stoically and not given in. Even though he knew it, he couldn't bring himself to defy the Goblin and call down more pain. He knew that either thing would hurt his uncle. And he wasn't sure that he could stand any more pain himself. He was too weak. He never should have come.

"Not like that!" the Goblin criticized, placing his hand over Kíli's and forcing him to apply more pressure. "You have to work it in." As the powder worked into the wounds, Thorin felt a cry of pain rise up his throat. It burned! The powder caused the wounds to feel as though a hot wire was being pressed into his flesh. He had never felt pain like it in all his life. And it didn't fade. If anything, with each new letter, the burning of the previous one intensified. Somewhere through the haze of pain, his mind offered him the answer; there was salt in that powder. His suspicions were confirmed moments later when Kíli spoke.

"You said it was just dye," Kíli challenged the Goblin tears in his voice. "Dye shouldn't do this!" His uncle was still sobbing, even though he had removed his hands. There was something else in that powder.

"There might be a little salt mixed in with the dye," the Goblin replied with a shrug. "Continue," he ordered, purposefully nudging Kíli's wounded back to remind him of the consequence of refusal.

"Get it over with, Kíli," Thorin gasped out. "The sooner it's done the sooner the burning will stop." At his uncle's blessing, Kíli continued, his movements harsh and disjointed with his need to complete his grizzly task quickly and they only became more so as Thorin began screaming again. By the time the task was finished, Kíli was shaking so badly that he could barely stand.

"I'm done with this one," the Great Goblin said suddenly pushing Kíli into the arms of another goblin nearby. "Bring me the blonde one."

"What should we do with him, your Malevolence?" the goblin holding Kíli asked.

"Tie his hands and put him with the others," the Goblin answered dismissively. The other goblin nodded and grabbed a length of rope before yanking Kíli's arms behind him violently, aggravating both his back and his wounded arm in the process and causing a strangled cry to rise up his throat. His eyes locked with Fíli's as they passed one another, and both brothers knew what it was that the other wanted to say: I'm sorry.

Once he was past Kíli, Fíli tired to school his features into a mask of hatred as befitted the heir of Thorin when dealing with an enemy. He wasn't entirely sure that he succeeded. And judging from the amused look on the Goblin King's face, he hadn't.

"Didn't think that you were going to get to miss out on all the fun, did you?" the Great Goblin asked a glowering Fíli.

"I won't participate in this," Fíli replied defiantly with a confidence that he didn't feel. "Pain won't sway me." He had never experienced true pain and knew that he would probably crumble if it came down to it, but perhaps the Goblin could be fooled.

"Perhaps not," the Great Goblin answered, his voice a low vile whisper in Fíli's ear. "However that is not the stick that I had in mind for you. Do you see your brother over there? If you don't do as I say, we will tie you and force you to watch as we kill him. Slowly and painfully. Once we have begun, we will not stop—even if you tell us what we want to know. We will still kill him. And he will die screaming in agony. Do you understand? If you refuse to do as I ask it will be as though you kill your brother yourself."

"Will you do as I ask of you?" the Goblin asked with an evil smirk on his face. He knew what the answer would be before it was given. Even so, he found the look of indecision on the dwarf's face as he looked from his uncle to his brother amusing. It was almost more entertaining that the little one's cries of pain had been.

"I don't see where I have a choice," Fíli finally replied. He and his uncle exchanged looks that contained more than the simple meeting of eyes. Thorin could clearly see the apology for what was about to happen in Fíli's eyes and Fíli could see the understanding in his uncle's. They both knew that what was to follow would be in no way pleasant.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**I suppose that I was feeling inspired by all the reviews, I should have been working on something else, but this refused to remain unwritten or to let me sleep. I hope that you enjoyed it!**

**As always thank you for taking the time to read this story or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to:**

**Purestrongpoem: ****Thank you! I hope that you enjoyed this one as well.**

**Rivan Warrioress:**** Thank you! and it only got worse for poor Thorin and the rest of them. And Gandalf ****will**** show up . . . eventually. I'm glad that you are loving it and hope that you continue to love it! **

**Lady Laran:**** And Bilbo gave it a good try . . . too bad that the Goblin is having none of it this time. And sorry about the darkness, but the light will eventually break through (maybe in the next chapter or the one after . . .) I hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway.**

**Singer Salvage:**** Thank you! I hope that the update was worth the wait!**

**HobbitLover4eva:**** Oh, please don't faint! And that is one thing that I promise, no one will die . . . I don't think . . . and if someone does decided that they need to, I ****promise**** that I will put a character death warning at the top of the chapter. I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter!**

**Baccadoro:**** I adore that family as well (I just have a strange way of showing it) and Kíli's anguish almost makes me cry and I don't tend to do that while I'm writing. My own work rarely evokes emotion in me. Other people's, yes. Mine . . . not so much. And it was a bit cruel . . . I feel like a horrible person at this point :'(. However I am glad that you are enjoying it. I hope this new update was worth the wait!**

**Dwli: ****I'm sorry to have made you wait :(. And sometimes I am rather slow updating things (never much more than a week though) and I am very glad to hear that you enjoyed it! I'm glad that I could illustrate their situation so vividly for you and glad that I am evoking the appropriate emotions. And yep . . . fans (and writers) seem to be a rather sadistic bunch where the Durin family is concerned . . . lots of hurt Fíli and Kíli fics out there (and a lot of Battle of the Five Armies death fics) and for all that I mess up cannon and ship strange parings, I love Tolkien's work and am glad that you appreciate that I noticed the little things :). And there will be quite a bit more. I have plans for at least three more chapters and no idea how this is going to end yet . . . but we'll figure it out when the time comes ;) I hope you liked this update!**

**Nunquam perpetuum: **** don't worry, there will be more! And in that case, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! And before this is done there may be a couple of tons of angst (I'm a sucker for angst).**

**That's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought of it (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	4. The Consequences of Participation

"I'm so glad that you agreed to participate," the Great Goblin said with a malicious smile. Fíli gave him no reply other than an angry glare that was filled with hatred. It was clear that he wanted to kill him. Rather than feel intimidated, the Goblin found the dwarf's impotent fury amusing. He had been right. The blonde one would be much more useful than the dark one had been . . . though the dark one would still have his uses.

None of the others had heard the threat that the Goblin had whispered into Fíli's ear, but they could easily guess what it had been. Even thought he didn't cry as Kíli had, his breathing was abnormally heavy and his eyes were tortured as he looked between his uncle and his brother. The Great Goblin was going to make Fíli choose which of them he wanted to see in pain. No one envied him his choice.

At the realization of what the goblin was doing, Dwalin felt a growl rise up from his chest. This was beyond despicable. Torturing the King was bad enough, but involving the lads . . . there was no word that he could think of that aptly described how he felt about that. Though he was more than willing to try to demonstrate his displeasure with a string of curses directed at the Goblin in Khuzdul, the common tongue and even one or two that he had picked up in Orkish during various battles.

The Goblin raised an eyebrow at the language. He had to admit that he was almost impressed with the dwarf's vocabulary of vulgarities. But more so than that, he was pleased that he had managed to anger the otherwise silent audience to speaking. That was a good sign. First came obscenities, then threats, then pleas, and then, finally, information. They had just broken the first barrier. Now to see if the blonde dwarf could break the others . . . and perhaps a few bones.

"It's time to begin, dwarf," the Great Goblin said nudging Fíli towards his uncle. "Let's see if you have better knife skills than your brother. If I remember correctly we took more than a few knives from you when you were captured so I believe that you will." Fíli looked at his hands and then at the Goblin.

"I have no knife," Fíli said his voice steady—though shot through with anger—and his tone level. "How can I demonstrate skills with no knife?"

"There is one for you over there," the Goblin replied gesturing with his head towards Thorin and the knife still imbedded in his shoulder. "Use that one. It wouldn't do to have your brother claiming that the contest is invalid because he had an inferior weapon." Fíli nodded curtly before he walked to his uncle's side. He gently lifted his left hand and placed it over the bloody handprint Kíli had left on Thorin's face.

"I'm sorry," Fíli said. Unlike when Kíli had said the words, there was determination rather than desperation mingled with the regret behind them. Thorin realized that Fíli would do as he was asked and would not require urging from him to do it. It was clear that his nephew didn't want to, but that he would.

"What did he threaten you with?" Thorin asked. He knew that for Fíli to be so determined the Goblin had threatened Kíli and most likely with more than just pain. It would help him to endure whatever Fíli was about to inflict on him if he knew what was at stake if they failed.

"He says that if I refuse he'll kill Kíli," Fíli whispered levelly, his blue eyes hard with determination. "I am sorry, Uncle, but I _will not_ watch him die."

"Nor will I," Thorin replied looking at his nephew with understanding. "Do what you must. And, Fíli. If he forces you to choose. Choose Kíli." Fíli nodded. He understood what his uncle asked of him and he sincerely hoped that it would not come down to that. He wasn't sure that he could live with himself if he was the one that said the words that resulted in his uncle's death. He felt his eyes begin to fill with tears at the thought, but tamped them down. The Great Goblin seemed to feed on pain and anguish and he would be _damned_ if he gave him the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

"I love you, Uncle," Fíli whispered. Thorin had no chance to reply in kind because as soon as he had finished speaking, Fíli grabbed the knife and pulled it from his shoulder. He had not been cruel about it, but the movement hurt nonetheless and Thorin's eyes briefly closed as his breath came in pained gasps.

Unlike with Kíli, the Great Goblin kept his distance from Fíli as he gave him instructions. The little one had been timid, afraid even, but this one . . . even with so little a knife the Goblin knew that he could inflict major damage before he could be stopped. The dark one was still a child. This one, while young, was a warrior. And it was that training that the Goblin King called on now.

"I know that you know the correct places to strike to kill quickly," the Goblin said. "Avoid those. Other than that, your instructions are the same as your brother's were. Cut him. Deeply. You can stop when he talks or I tell you to. Whichever comes first. Do you understand?" Fíli nodded. He understood and he would do what he had to do to guarantee Kíli's continued survival. Even if it destroyed him in the process.

"Then begin," the Goblin said. The only warning that Fíli gave was in the increased tension in his jaw and the way his hands clenched before he struck. The knife flashed out almost faster than any of the spectators could follow and suddenly there was a deep, weeping red line on the King's ribcage where there had been none seconds before.

Even though the cut hurt and the pain of it left Thorin panting, he couldn't help but be thankful for Fíli's kindness. The rapidness of the attack had lessened the pain of it. Even if his movement had seemed more vicious that Kíli's it was actually more merciful. However, his mercy was not to last. The Goblin King knew that quickly inflicted wounds were less painful as well.

"Not like that," the Goblin sneered. "Even though you follow directions better than your brother and obviously have more skill with a knife, he is a much better torturer. All a quick cut like that will do is bleed him. That's not what I want from you. You are to _hurt_ him. Keep the depth, but move the blade more slowly." At his words and anguished cry rose up Kíli's throat. He hadn't realized that in cutting slowly he had hurt his uncle more. Thorin hadn't said anything. If he would have . . . again Kíli felt self-loathing flood his veins. He should have known that. It shouldn't have been something that needed to be said. Once more, the though struck him that he never should have left home.

Fíli let out a growl at his brother's cry. He wanted nothing more than to go over to him and comfort him, but he couldn't do so if he wanted to keep Kíli alive. He hated this. It didn't help matters when he followed the Goblin's instruction, cutting his uncle deeply and slowly. It made him feel like his heart was being ripped from his chest as he watched Thorin's flesh twitch and saw him strain against the bonds in an attempt to distance himself from the blade. His uncle was in pain and it was his fault.

He wanted nothing more than to stop. To do as Kíli had done and drop the knife. Refuse to participate and take his beating for his refusal. But he couldn't. It wasn't his own pain and death that his refusal would bring, but Kíli's and he knew he couldn't live with that. So instead he tried to ignore his uncle's pain and do as the Great Goblin had ordered.

Thorin could see the warring desires in his nephew's eyes and even though he could no longer contain his cries of pain he tried to show Fíli that he understood why he was doing this and that he approved. Fíli was capable of making the hard choices he needed to. And Thorin knew that if he met his end here, in a goblin cave, at the hands of his nephew that Fíli would make a good King for their people.

Fíli saw the approval in his uncle's eyes and knew that he was not worthy of it. Even so, it helped. Thorin and Fíli were both united in their determination to keep Kíli alive despite the pain it caused them and having an ally made their tasks more bearable. Especially since both of them were able to convince themselves that even though it was Fíli's hand that held the knife, it was not his consciousness controlling it or his hands themselves that were inflicting the damage. He was a mere tool. Little comfort as it was, the knowledge did help.

Sadly for them, Kíli hadn't reached the same conclusion. He couldn't see Fíli's face and the anguish that was written across it as he spilled his uncle's blood. All he could see was his brother mercilessly slicing into his uncle and see and hear Thorin's pain. Kíli didn't understand it. He thought that Fíli loved their uncle like a father how could he just cut into him like he was. It made no sense to him and he found himself begging Fíli to stop.

"Fíli please!" Kíli called his voice high and shrill as he begged, tears running down his face. "You have to stop this! No more! You can't hurt him any more! Please!" At his words, Fíli's head drooped and his hands began to shake. It was everything that he could do to keep from turning around and yelling at his brother. This was hard enough for him to do without Kíli begging him to stop as well. He knew that what he was doing was wrong. He didn't need Kíli to tell him. But he couldn't stop, no matter how many times Kíli begged him to.

"It'll be alright lad," Thorin said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "You can explain it to him later. He'll understand." Fíli didn't have the heart to tell his uncle that he was afraid that he was wrong. Kíli loved Thorin. Seeing Fíli hurting their uncle . . . it was possible that Kíli would never forgive him.

"Uncle," Fíli whispered, his resolve cracking at Kíli's pleas and under the weight of his own conscience. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up. His uncle was actually beginning to quiver, whether from pain or blood loss Fíli wasn't sure. In the back of his mind he had always known that Gandalf was going to come and save them like he had with the trolls, but for the first time he realized that it was completely possible that his uncle's words earlier had been true. This was rapidly becoming a choice between keeping Thorin alive or keeping Kíli alive. If Gandalf didn't get there soon, Fíli couldn't see a way that both of them would make it out of this alive.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter. I hope that you enjoyed it!**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed. I've answered them in PM this time because I was gently reminded that uber-long AN's are against the rules so I figured that I had better play by them. So . . . looks like we're back to the PM system though I will still reply to anonymous reviews here.**

**Dwli:**** I'm glad that you are still enjoying it! And thank you so much for your kind words on my writing! And this story will be a giant ball of angst when it is finished. And yes, endings are always hard, especially when you want it to end one way and it seems to want to end another. . . anyway, I hope that you enjoyed the newest chapter!**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	5. Fili Denounced

Luckily, or unluckily, for Fíli and Thorin the Great Goblin had also noticed the tremor beginning to go through the dwarf King.

"Stop," he called just as Fíli was about to slice into his uncle again. At his command, Fíli felt his shoulders droop with relief. Perhaps his part in this was about to be done as well. Maybe the Goblin would just keep switching dwarves until—_Until what? _He asked himself. _Until Uncle dies? He'll never tell the Goblin why we're here._ In the back of his mind he knew that he would never be so lucky as to be spared further participation in this. And if he was, it would be Kíli that was brought back up. He couldn't wish himself free at the price of his brother being forced to continue. Trepidation took the place of relief as he turned to face the Goblin and see what it was that he wanted Fíli to do next.

"He'll die before he tells us anything at this rate," the Goblin said looking at the blood coming from Thorin with what was almost distaste. "Stubborn dwarf. However, there are other ways to cause pain. Less bloody ways. Place the knife on the ground and kick it to me."

At his words a smirk crossed Fíli's face. The Great Goblin was afraid of him. "What?" Fíli asked innocently. "You don't want me to just hand it to you?" Despite the situation, he took a strange sense of pride in the fact that even outnumbered and with nothing more than a small knife the Goblin King was afraid of him.

"Just do as I say," the Goblin snapped hearing the amusement in the blonde dwarf's voice and not appreciating it in the least. He was rapidly deciding that he liked the dark one better. Despite the destructive potential of the blonde one, the dark one had been much less dangerous to have free. If it wasn't for the threat on his brother's life hanging over him, the Goblin had no doubt that he would not have been near as compliant so far. Perhaps he needed reminded of the stakes?

"Or do we need to involve your brother in this?" the Great Goblin asked cruelly. With a disgusted sneer Fíli dropped the knife and kicked it towards the Goblin. "I thought you might see things my way." It didn't matter that the dwarf knew that the Goblin was afraid of him. He would still do as he was told. There was no way that he could refuse. He couldn't fight them all. And if he tried, his brother would be dead before he could stop them.

"Continue," the Goblin ordered as one of his subjects handed him the knife. Fíli looked at him in curiosity, dread beginning to fill his stomach. He swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the nausea and fear. His breath was beginning to come in short gasps as he thought through it. The Goblin had just taken his weapon. What did he mean by telling Fíli to continue?

"I have no weapon," Fíli said his tone almost desperate, his voice breathless as he realized what was likely that the Goblin wanted him to do. He couldn't really mean to have Fíli _beat_ his uncle, could he? No. it was impossible. He hoped that it was just an oversight on the Goblin's part. There was no way that he intended to force Fíli to subject his uncle—and King—to the indignity of having Fíli's fists used on him as though they were children having a fight. That was too much!

"You have your hands, do you not?" The Goblin asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone showing that he thought Fíli was an imbecile. "They will work well and produce very little blood." Fíli looked down at his hands, his expression confused and pained before he glanced up and looked around desperately as though searching for someone to save him. This was too much. He couldn't do it. There was no way that he could lay his hands on his uncle like that. He could still remember the one time that he had hit his brother and the lecture that he had received about how he was an Heir or Durin, not some common orc, and that he should solve his problems with words and that if words would not suffice it should be a severe enough matter to merit lethal weapons: fists were not tools of negotiation. He felt panic flood his veins. It was something that he had been raised not to do. Something that he couldn't do but at the same time something that he had to do.

As his desire to do as he had always been taught warred with his desire to keep his little brother alive, he sank to his knees, his head in his hands with the agony of his choice. This newest turn was more than his already raw nerves could handle. Would he be able to save Kíli's life at not only the cost of his uncle's but at the cost of his morals as well? This was too much to ask.

"No," he begged looking up at the Goblin. "Please. Don't make me do this. Anything else. Please."

"Fine," the Goblin said with a shrug and an evil smirk. He hadn't expected this to upset the blonde dwarf so. It was intriguing. He wondered what was behind his current distress. "If you can't do this for me . . . bring me the dark one."

"NO!" Fíli yelled that one word filled with more anguish than he should have been able to muster at his age. It ripped through his uncle and the other dwarves like a physical wound. Fíli should never have been put in this position.

Thorin watched sadly as Fíli knelt there a moment more, his breath coming in sobs, before rising to his feet, his shoulder drooping as though he were nearly three times his age. Once more, Thorin wished that by telling the Goblin why they were there he could end this for them all. And once more he was left feeling powerless at the knowledge that nothing he could say would get them out of this situation. Gandalf was their only hope and he was unquestionably late. If he didn't hurry he would be too late, if he wasn't already. The sound of Fíli's voice when he next spoke made Thorin believe that Gandalf was already too late for his nephew. He had never heard his nephew so broken before.

"No," Fíli repeated his voice little more than a dejected whisper. "I'll do it. Just leave him out of this. What do you want me to do?"

"Come with me," the Goblin said a cruel smile on his face as he grabbed Fíli by the upper arm and turned him to face Thorin once more. Now that Fíli was weaponless and defeated emotionally, he was more willing to take a more hands-on approach to the torture of the dwarf King. He didn't see where the blonde dwarf posed any real risk to him any longer.

"No." Kíli breathed seeing his brother facing their uncle again. He knew what the Goblin was going to have Fíli do and it was too much. Thorin would never be able to forgive him for this. "NO! Fíli you can't! Don't do this! Fíli!" The look of anguish on Fíli's face and desperation in his eyes at his brother's pleas were too much for Thorin.

"Kíli!" he snapped looking at his youngest nephew and seeing the same horrified expression in his face that was on Fíli's. "Let him do what he needs to. Don't let this," here Thorin growled a word in Khuzdul that shocked many of them. They hadn't ever heard him use _that_ one before, "see that he's upset you. Be strong. Can you do that for me?" Kíli nodded attempting to swallow back his tears and hold his tongue. If his uncle could bear to have it done, surely he could bear to watch it. Though he couldn't understand how his brother could bear to _do_ it.

"Thank you," Fíli breathed though there was no joy in his eyes at his uncle's mercy. Even though it wouldn't help to get them out of their current situation, Thorin's silencing of Kíli would make it more bearable. Fíli couldn't stand against both his own conscience and his brother's condemnation. With Kíli showing his displeasure at Fíli's actions, he would never be able to do what he had to do.

Thorin nodded slightly. He hadn't done much, not near enough, to help Fíli. He knew this was hard enough for the boy without Kíli interfering. He just wasn't sure how much longer _he_ would be able to resist the urge to ask him to stop. His own resolve to endure what he needed to endure was beginning to be tested. Never in his life had he felt such pain. But for Kíli and the quest he would try to outlast it. All he could do was cling to the hope that either Gandalf would come soon or the darkness would claim him before he was reduced to a begging shell of himself.

"Enough of this," the Goblin spat. Even though few words had been spoken, he could sense that they had offered comfort to one another and that was unacceptable. He had been hoping that by using the nephews he would manage to turn them against one another, but that had not been what happened. Just as one of them had seemed to be on the verge of breaking, they found comfort in each other. He didn't understand it. Perhaps this would end that.

"Hit him here," the Goblin instructed pointing to the space of flesh just below Thoirn's ribs and making an 'X' with one of his claws. Glaring up at the Goblin for daring to touch his uncle and for forcing him to strike him, Fíli drew back and swung at his uncle.

"That was pathetic!" the Goblin criticized. "If you won't actually hit him I can bring the little one over and see if he can help us encourage you to do better."

"Fíli," Thorin ground out. "Just do it. Do it for Kíli." His heart almost broke at the tortured expression that flashed across Fíli's face before he closed his eyes and took a few sobbing breaths. He swallowed harder than before and nodded. He could force himself to do this for Kíli. He had Thorin's blessing and Kíli's well-being to keep him going. He kept his eyes locked on his uncle's, blue to blue, needing reassurance that it would be fine, as the next blow landed. Even though it destroyed him to see the pain flash through them, it helped because underneath the pain was the same gentle understanding that had always been in Thorin's eyes when he looked at his nephews. Even when he was angry with them, it had never left and this situation was no different. No matter how this came out, his uncle would understand. His uncle would not blame him, even if everyone else did. And that realization gave him strength.

"Again," the Goblin said, realizing that this time the boy would need guidance to complete his task. He only wished that he would have know how much more it would bother the dwarf to use his hands than it had to use a knife. If he had known, they would have made the switch sooner. Especially since he could see the tension that was in both of them at the muffled cries of the little one: cries that increased in volume with every blow the blonde one landed. He wasn't sure why something so bloodless would bother them more than the spilling of familial blood, but he now saw that he should have made the change much sooner.

"Here this time," the Goblin said stroking Thorin's cheek bone in a parody of a caress. The dwarf pulled away from the touch with a snarl and a curse. "So there's still some life in you after all," the Goblin said with a laugh before turning to Fíli and saying, "Do it."

"You bastard," Fíli snarled his previous anger resurfacing with the understanding that he had Thorin had reached. The Goblin raised an eyebrow at the curse, thinking it to be a refusal, and gestured for the goblins to bring Kíli. Kíli snarled as a goblin reached for him, looking all the world as though he was prepared to bite the first one that dared to touch him. Despite his pain Thorin had to smile that Kíli was beginning to fight back again.

"Don't touch him," Fíli snapped before closing his eyes and doing as he had been told. He let out a sob as his fist connected with his uncle's face. The shock of the impact reverberated up his arm. He glanced down at his knuckles, surprised to see blood there. He glanced at his uncle; Thorin's face had a red mark, but no blood. The blood on his hands was his own.

"Again," the Goblin said levelly. He watched with satisfaction as both of the brothers' faces twisted at the command.

Despite what he had said to his uncle, at the sight of Fíli about to strike Thorin again Kíli couldn't stop himself. "No, Fíli," he begged. "Don't do it! PLEASE!" With another anguish filled snarl, this one loud enough to almost drown out Kíli's pleas, Fíli struck again. He let out a different kind of cry as his fist made contact with Thorin's cheek once again, this time with a crack. He pulled his hand back against his chest, feeling a sharp pain as it moved and knowing instantly that it was broken.

"Again," the Great Goblin said, almost sounding bored. It was more fun for him when he hadn't had to dictate every move.

"I can't," Fíli gasped tears beginning to prickle his eyes as a deeper, more radiating pain began to move up his arm. "I think I broke my hand." The Goblin looked at him skeptically and grabbed the wrist of the arm in question, applying pressure to his hand. When he pushed in one place, Fíli could feel bone grinding together and his vision blanked out for a moment. When it cleared again the scream he could hear bouncing off the walls of the cave sounded suspiciously like his own voice. He couldn't remember screaming.

"It's broken," the Goblin said with a sigh before roughly releasing Fíli's hand and gesturing to a nearby goblin who handed the blonde dwarf a pole, about a foot long and as thick as Fíli's wrist. "That's too bad. That was an entertaining means of torture. I knew that you had a hard head, Thorin Oakenshield, I just didn't realize that it was _that _hard." Thorin snarled out another curse at the statement and the Goblin just smiled in response.

"Let's see how _lively_ you are once he finishes the next stage, shall we?" the Goblin taunted leering at the bound dwarf King. Fíli eyed the pole in his hands nervously. What would the next stage consist of? Rather than explain, the Goblin King placed his hand on Thorin's uninjured shoulder, pressing deeply as though looking for something.

Seeing his chance for a little revenge for the pain that the Goblin had caused him, Thorin emulated Fíli and sank his teeth into the arm of the Great Goblin. Even when the Great Goblin pulled his arm away with a roar of pain and backhanded Thorin across the face he couldn't help but feel that he had accomplished something.

"What _is_ it with you dwarves and biting?" the Goblin King asked massaging the spot where Thorin had sunk his teeth into his arm with a glare for both the King and Fíli. Dwalin and a few of the other dwarves chuckled at the idea that their King had just done something so undignified as bite someone, but they were pleased that he had managed to do damage even bound as he was.

"Hold his head," the Great Goblin snapped, incensed that the dwarves were now amused rather than upset. He was beginning to lose control of the situation. He would have to change that. Thorin snarled as he felt fingers thread into his hair, restricting his movement, before the Goblin's probing fingers returned to his shoulder.

"Ah," the Goblin said with a smile before cutting into Thorin's shoulder with a claw, leaving a red 'X.'

"Strike here," the Great Goblin said, turning back to Fíli once more, "and strike hard."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Fíli asked, his tone full of bravado once more. His uncle's rebellion had encouraged him. Just because he had to comply didn't mean that he had to make it easy. "My hand's broken."

"You seem like a smart lad, for a dwarf," the Goblin replied, his eyes narrowed in hatred as he realized the consequences of the dwarf King's bite. "I'm sure that you will figure out a way. I know that your brother will appreciate it if you will."

With a glare of his own for the Goblin, Fíli attempted to find a grip on the pole that enabled him to hold it without aggravating his broken hand before giving up. He was about to cause his uncle pain, it only made sense that he should share it.

"I'm waiting," the Goblin said with a pointed glance at Kíli. "And I am not patient, less so since your dear uncle decided to bite me. I would like nothing more than to return the favor by leaving such a mark on his kin." With a growl, Fíli did as he had been ordered and brought the pole down on the 'X' a cry to match his uncle's rising up his throat as the movement jostled his broken hand. When his vision cleared again he was startled to see that Thorin's shoulder had changed shape. There was now a strange knot where before there had been smooth muscle and his hand had gone limp.

"What did you just make me do?" Fíli snarled, turning to face the Goblin, holding the pole aloft threateningly. Even if he'd know that it was going to hurt his uncle he hadn't thought that it would break him. He allowed his hatred from himself to be channeled into hatred for the Goblin and could feel bloodlust beginning to stir within him.

"Ah, now you don't want to do that, lad," the Goblin taunted seeing the hatred burning in Fíli's blue eyes and enjoying the fact that he had caused it. "There are more than enough of us to subdue you before you could do any damage with that pole. Is striking me worth the cost to dear Kíli?" He glanced at his brother, his heart breaking at the betrayal in Kíli's eyes as he looked at him. Kíli hated him. The look in Kíli's eyes broke Fíli and he lowered the pole, hanging his head in defeat. His vengeance wasn't worth the cost of Kíli's life, even if Kíli never spoke to him again.

"I didn't think so," the Great Goblin said with a smirk. He wasn't sure what had passed between the brothers, but it had been nowhere near as reassuring to the eldest as had the glances he had shared with his uncle.

"What did you make me do?" Fíli repeated his voice edging towards desperation as he looked away from Kíli's accusing glare and back to his uncle. As painful as it was to see the damage he had done to Thorin's body, it was better than seeing the hatred in Kíli's brown eyes: eyes that had _always_ looked at him with admiration . . . until today.

"What did I do to him?" Fíli asked, his voice filled with the tears that were not falling from his eyes. He couldn't believe that to save his brother's life he had been forced to lose him in another way. It was cruel. The Goblin didn't reply, but Thorin did.

"He had you dislocate my shoulder," Thorin panted in an attempt to reassure Fíli and let Kíli know that his brother hadn't done anything too bad. "It'll be fine. It's not the first time it's happened and probably won't be the last."

Fíli sighed in relief despite his own emotional pain. Even though he hadn't heard anything break he had been afraid that he had done permanent damage. Dislocated shoulders, while painful, were not permanent. It would heal. _If_ they survived. His relationship with Kíli however . . . that damage may be permanent. The thought was almost enough to make him wish that he, at least, did not survive. He couldn't bear for Kíli to hate him forever.

"Not the first time, eh?" The Goblin asked oblivious to the mental anguish that Fíli was currently experiencing, distracted by the fact that Thorin was finally talking, nearly taunting him. "Have you ever had them both out at the same time?" With no more warning than that, Thorin felt his hair seized once more and again the Goblin's probing fingers were in his shoulder, this time the one that had the stab wound in it. As he searched for the joint, the Great Goblin took special care to make sure that he was applying pressure to the wound already present.

Despite the pain that it caused him, Thorin tensed the muscles his shoulder attempting to delay the Great Goblin long enough for Fíli to compose himself. It was working. Despite his probing, the Goblin could not find the edge of the joint.

"What? Can't find what you're looking for?" Thorin taunted hoping to enrage the Goblin and distract him for just a bit longer. It backfired.

"You're stalling," the Goblin King said understanding dawning bright in his cruel eyes. "But why?" Had the Goblin not have been touching him, Thorin's flinch would have been imperceptible, but as it was, he felt it. He turned to face Fíli, who was staring at Kíli once again, his expression begging his brother to understand while Kíli glared at him.

"I see," the Goblin said smiling again. Thorin felt self-loathing wash through him, momentarily overriding physical pain. Everything that he tried to do for his nephews backfired. He looked at Fíli, an apology burning in his eyes. He had failed . . . again.

"Kíli," the Goblin called, Thorin growled at the fact that the Goblin had _dared_ to use his nephew's name, but Kíli jumped and looked at the Goblin anyway. "I have a question for you." Kíli eyed him warily. What question could the Goblin have for him? His uncle had told the Goblin that he knew nothing. Why would he ask him anything?

"What do you think of your brother's handiwork?" the Goblin King asked, his tone suggesting that it was no more than an idle question. He enjoyed the way that the curiosity in Kíli's brown eyes gave way to hatred.

"I have no brother," Kíli snarled glaring at Fíli as he spoke. "No brother of mine could do what he had done today. It's _disgusting_!"

His words hit Fíli like a blow to the gut. Kíli had just disowned him. He didn't want to be his brother any more. He felt his hands go numb at the shock of it. Kíli, his sweet baby brother, the one person he had thought would _never_ hate him, Kíli _disowned_ him. He couldn't breathe. This was too much. He couldn't deal with this as well. Kíli couldn't have hurt him more if he had run him through. At least then Fíli would have known that the pain would stop. He felt his legs give out under him and a sob rise up his throat. He couldn't care less what the others though. Kíli, his Kíli, wanted nothing to do with him. He felt tears stinging his eyes, but they wouldn't come. It hurt too bad to cry. Everything he had done that day had been for Kíli's sake . . . and in the end . . .

"I think I broke him," the Goblin King said in a quiet voice to Thorin who was staring at the crumpled form of Fíli with his face blank. He couldn't believe that Kíli would say something like that to Fíli. The Goblin was responsible for tearing apart his family. At the thought, rage flooded Thorin's veins and gave him strength that even he hadn't know was there.

"Before this day is out," Thorin threatened darkly, his blue eyes molten with the force of his furry, "I will see your blood on the ground and laugh as I rend your head from your body."

"How will you do that when you can't swing a sword?" the Great Goblin asked before bringing the pole that Fíli had dropped down on Thorin's shoulder, dislocating it as well. "What say you now, O Great King?"

"There are many ways to dispose of _filth_," Thorin ground out between teeth that were clenched against pain. "Without the use of my arms I will just have to get more _creative._" With a growl at Thorin's continued defiance, the Goblin nodded to someone behind him and suddenly the dwarf King's legs were no longer under him forcing his dislocated shoulders to bear the full force of his weight.

The pain of it was blinding and he scrambled desperately trying to get his feet back under him. He could feel the pain in his throat from the force of his screams, but he couldn't care in the face of the burning pain. Just as he would manage to find purchase, something would knock the foot off the ground and he would have to try again. Eventually, he was permitted to stand once more. He tried to regain control of his breathing and level a glare at the Goblin to show that he was unfazed, but even he knew that he failed.

"Do you still think that you can defeat me?" the Goblin King asked cruelly. "You who have no kingdom to call your own and only a rag-tag band of followers for subjects? I suppose that is a good thing: you can't even control yourself."

"I'd like to see how well _you _would be doing at this point," Thorin retorted. "I doubt it would be near as well. Everyone knows that goblins are weaker than dwarves." Even though he was prepared for it this time, nothing could truly prepare him for the return of the pain. This time, the goblins did not let him get his feet back under him. At the pain of it, he felt unconsciousness beckoning him, promising him a release from the agony. He gladly took the offer. The last thing that he saw before he allowed the darkness to take him was an exceptionally bright flash of light.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter :) I hope that it was worth the wait!**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :)**

**Dwli:**** I hope you didn't get in trouble for taking your sister's phone :) And I'm glad that you liked it! And I think it may be beyond cruel. I know that after working on a chapter for this one I feel like a horrible person for a bit. Even so, I'm glad that you are enjoying it. And there's not really. The problem is actually a grey area anyway. I'm allowed short AN's at the beginning and end of chapters. But review replies are getting a bit long (over 1000 per chapter on one story) and I figured that it was better safe than sorry. There is no real risk. Don't worry!**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	6. Escape and Confrontation

As the flash faded, Fíli looked around in shock wondering what new torment the goblins had thought up. He nearly hoped that it would prove fatal for him. It would be easier than living with the memories of what he had done and the look in Kíli's eyes as he denounced him. Death was more tempting than trying to continue with the hatred that was directed at him from both around him and within him. Almost too tempting. So when a large hand closed on his arm and hauled him to his feet he didn't even resist or think to fight. He just hoped that it would be quick. But no pain followed; instead there was a relieved laugh.

"Fíli, my lad," Gandalf said clapping him on the shoulder. "I feared you were gravely injured. Quickly now! Free the others. We will have to fight our way out of this." Fíli's eyes darted to his unconscious uncle looking desperately for the Great Goblin as well and not seeing him. "I'll take care of Thorin, you free the others."

Fíli nodded regretfully. He wanted to ask the wizard to trade jobs but he didn't. It took everything he had to grab a couple of knifes—not one of them his own—from the pile where the goblins had placed them and charge toward the others, taking the time to stick one of the knives through the throat of the goblin holding his brother before cutting Dwalin's bonds and releasing him to rearm and begin reeking bloody havoc on the goblins and give him cover to continue freeing the others. It was a task he could focus on, something to distract him from his own anguish, the pain it caused in his broken hand briefly covering the pain in his soul. It was easier for him to focus on freeing the company one at a time, even taking the time to remove the gag from Bilbo's mouth one-handed, than it was to think about what was coming. He freed them all before he turned to the one that had had wanted to free first. The one that he knew didn't want him anywhere nearby.

When he moved to Kíli's side, as he had known that he would, his brother roughly pulled away from his touch before he could even grasp the rope that bound his wrists. Kíli's movement caused him to almost cut him and made him wish again that the goblins had just killed him. It was a far crueler thing for them to force him to endure his brother's hatred.

"Hold still," Fíli snarled, more angry at himself and the goblins than at Kíli—though Kíli had no way of knowing that. "I'll have you free in a moment. Now _hold_ _still_."

"Don't touch me!" Kíli snapped twisting away from his brother again and jostling Fíli's broken hand in the process. Fíli cried out in pain at the touch to the tender flesh and almost wondered if Kíli had done it on purpose before he forced the thought away. Even if he hated him Kíli would never knowingly cause him physical pain.

"I'm trying to free you," Fíli said, trying to force his tone to be gentle when all he wanted to do was grab his brother and ask him how he could turn on him like he had. Didn't Kíli realize _why_ he had done what he had? "If you'll just hold still for _one_ second—"

"I'd rather stay bound," Kíli replied acidicly turning to glare at Fíli, his voice little more than a venomous hiss. His eyes showed none of the warmth that Fíli had always enjoyed. They were as cold and hard as the stone that the brothers knelt on.

"You're a fool," Fíli snapped, tears filling his own eyes threatening to spill over. Shaking his head in disbelief that Kíli could truly hate him so, Fíli reached for him once again, only to have Kíli roll to the side rather than let him cut his bonds.

"And you're a coward," Kíli whispered, his voice barely audible in the chaos. "I can't believe that I used to want to be like you." Fíli almost launched himself at Kíli prepared to pin him down and _force _him to listen to reason but was stopped by Balin's hand on his shoulder. The older dwarf was smiling at him, a sad smile but one that showed that he understood why Fíli had done what he did.

"Give me the knife, lad," Balin said gently. "I'll cut him free and then we can get out of here. Go see how your uncle is doing." With a final pained glance at Kíli's hate-filled eyes, Fíli gave the knife to Balin and joined the battle, fighting his way to where he had last seen his uncle and Gandalf. Thinking back, he decided that he almost pitied the goblins that got in his way as he vented his frustration about the entire situation on them.

When he got to the posts, his uncle was no longer tied, but on the ground gently propped against one of them, the body of the Great Goblin—minus his head—on the ground behind him. Fíli looked around for Gandalf and saw that the old wizard was fighting as well, wielding both Glamdring and his staff with deadly accuracy, it almost seemed as though his staff seared where it hit.

Oblivious to the battle going on around them, Fíli dropped to his knees beside Thorin, reaching his left hand out gently—tentatively almost—to stroke his hair back from his unconscious face. But before he could make contact, Kíli was there, knocking his hand roughly away.

"You don't have the right," Kíli snarled his words almost lost in the fray. "You don't get to touch him any more than you can touch me. Not after what you did. I wouldn't be surprised if Uncle disowns you."

Fíli crumpled at Kíli's words his head resting on his knees as he struggled to deny the words. Was Kíli correct? Would his uncle want nothing more to do with him? Even though he had seemed to understand, would he feel the same as Kíli once the danger to Kíli was passed? Fíli couldn't breathe at the thought. His uncle couldn't hate him too! He looked around almost desperately for someone to tell Kíli that he was wrong but the others were all busy. He couldn't even draw enough air to sob. His breath coming in short panicked gasps. He couldn't breathe let alone refute the words. Again, a comforting hand came down on his shoulder.

Balin cringed at the pain, desperation and fear in Fíli's blue eyes as he looked up at him. He had known that what Fíli did had been difficult for him but he hadn't realized that it was this difficult. He also hadn't heard Kíli's newest denouncement. He thought his anguish was over the state of his uncle.

"It'll be alright, laddie," Balin said in a soothing tone as he drew the distraught dwarf into an embrace. He was surprised when Fíli clung to him and began to cry again. He couldn't ever remember seeing the boy cry.

"Now," Balin said, his tone a little more businesslike trying to encourage Fíli to focus on tasks that needed doing, "you need to rearm and grab your pack. We need to get a move on. I've already talked to Dori and we'll take care of Thorin. Go. It'll be alright." Fíli nodded and pulled back looking more like a small dwarfling than a fully grown prince.

"Why did you comfort him?" Kíli asked, distaste plain in his voice, he felt that _he_ needed to suffer for what he had done. Balin, of all people, should see that. He was his uncle's oldest friend. He shouldn't be comforting someone who had done so much damage to his friend and King.

"Because he needed it," Balin replied, his voice nowhere near as gentle with Kíli as it had been with Fíli. He was equally fond of the boys but Kíli was out of line, it just wasn't his place to say so. They may have been cousins, but Kíli was not his to scold. He almost wished that Dwalin was the one dealing with them. Dwalin didn't care for propriety and might have attempted to shake some sense into the young prince.

"You too," Balin said. It may not be his place to criticize Kíli's behavior, but he could issue orders. He was Thorin's second-in-command and this was a company issue not a personal one. "Rearm and pack up. We're leaving." Kíli snorted at being forced into closer proximity with his brother, but did as he had been told.

Rather than dig his weapons out of the remaining pile, Kíli moved to where the goblins had placed their packs. He threw his on, forgetting in his anger his own wounds. When the pack made contact with the wounded flesh of his back he nearly collapsed from the pain of it. He felt a hand grabbing his arm, keeping him upright, but his vision had blacked and he had no idea who done it. When his vision cleared and he saw a blonde dwarf standing there, his blue eyes pained and pleading, he wrenched his arm out of his grasp.

"Kíli," Fíli said, his voice little more than a whisper, "Let me—"

"I've got it," Kíli snarled, growling out in pain as the pack shifted on his wounds. He _would_ carry it. He had no need to accept help from _cowards_. He moved to rearm before moving back to where the rest of the company had clustered in preparation for the final assault for freedom.

Fíli sighed before shouldering his own pack and following after his little brother vowing that he would stay close to him during the escape. Even if Kíli didn't want him there, he would still try to protect him. If Thorin _did_ disown him, he would request the honor of being Kíli's personal guard. Even if they could never be brothers again, he couldn't bear the thought of someone else watching Kíli's back . . . someone that was only there out of duty rather than love.

By the time he reached the others, Thorin had been lifted onto Dori's back while Ori held his personal effects. His wrists had been loosely bound to help him stay there and his head lulled onto the other dwarf's shoulder rather pathetically. The sight of his uncle, who had always been so strong, so vulnerable cause Fíli's chest to constrict painfully and for his vision begin to dim.

"None of that now lad," Dwalin said stepping between him and his uncle and blocking Thorin from view. "We can't carry the both of you. We need you to fight. Can you do that?" Fíli took a few deep gasping breaths, then he nodded.

"Good lad," Dwalin replied quietly before clapping him on the shoulder affectionately. "Let's get some vengeance!" He called, raising his voice to include the rest of the company.

The answering roar showed just how angered the company was by what had been done to their leader and his heirs. The goblins did not stand a chance. All of the dwarves in the company had the capacity to be lethal on a normal day—even Kíli thought the Great Goblin hadn't realized it—now that they were enraged, armed and thirsting for repayment for the blood of dwarves that had been spilt in the currency of spilled goblin blood, they were beyond lethal. As they fought their way through the tunnels they left nothing in their wake save for mangled corpses and blood splatter.

As word spread that the Great Goblin was dead and that the dwarves and their wizard sought bloody revenge and were unassailable in the cluster they had formed, their path out of the mountains became cleared. Their last dash to the gate was an unimpeded one, the gate left open and unguarded as the guards had fled in fear for their lives. Goblins, after all, are not the bravest of things and when the choice was between being cut down by ferocious ire-filled dwarves or fleeing into the chaos that had been left in the wake of the death of the Great Goblin . . . well, it is easy to see why they chose the way they did.

Rather than be relieved that they were not having to fight for their lives, most of the dwarves were even more upset by this fact. They had wanted revenge, to see goblin blood painting the walls of the tunnels, and they were being denied it. Even so, as the rage faded, they realized that it truly was for the best. They had wounded to care for and neither Fíli nor Kíli were at their best. Young though they were, the two were good fighters and it was disadvantageous to have them crippled. Add to that the fact that Thorin was unconscious and unable to fight and also taking Dori from the fight; they realized that it was good that word of their ferocity had spread. Down four dwarves they could not have survived a full assault, no matter how strong their bloodlust.

Though the sunlight was weak, dawn just beginning to break, it warmed their hearts. They had survived their ordeal under the Misty Mountains. Now all that they needed to do was insure that the entire company did the same. The fact that the day was just beginning to dawn would help. The goblins would be unable to follow until nightfall. That would give them time to tend Thorin and the boys' wounds and still managed to put some distance between them and the goblins.

They found a decent sized clearing a safe distance from the mountains and took stock of their injuries and supplies. Other than Thorin, who was still unconscious, Fíli, who had broken his hand but had no other injuries to speak of, and Kíli's still unseen injuries the rest of the company was unscathed. Even Bilbo had managed to make it out unharmed.

"This is as good as it's going to get," Balin said with a sigh. "Dori, Nori, gather firewood. We'll need it. Bombur, try to find something to cook. I know that the ponies carried most of the food but we have to eat _something_." It was that thought that gave him an idea. It was the perfect way to get the young ones and Bilbo away from camp so that they could tend Thorin's wounds—a task that would _not_ be a pleasant one and one that they did not need to witness.

"Bombur, hold off on that," Balin corrected. "Fíli, Kíli, Ori, Bilbo, go see if you can find something to augment our supplies. Game, greens, I don't care what. We need to eat. Range out. We'll have startled anything nearby. If you feel up to it, that is."

"I'm up to it," Kíli said sharply. He was still ashamed of himself for how easily he had caved to the Goblin under the mountain and refused to let it be implied that he was weak. He was wounded, but not grievously so. He would hunt.

"At least let me look at your arm," Fíli said gently reaching for his brother's arm only to have it violently wrenched from his grasp. He continued resolutely reaching for Kíli. "You shouldn't leave it untreated for so long. Goblins are nasty creatures. It'll get infected."

"Don't touch me!" Kíli snarled glaring at Fíli dancing out of reach each time, his anger rising as each movement aggravated the wounds on his back. Even if the wounds themselves hadn't been Fíli's fault his continued pain was. He wished that Fíli would just stop. He couldn't bear to have him touch him and couldn't keep dodging him much longer.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Fíli said, seeing the pain and fear in his brother's gaze. "Just let me look at it. I only want to help."

"Like you _helped_ in the caves?" Kíli asked viciously. His eyes were filled with tears as he glared at his brother hatred burning in their brown depths and displacing both fear and pain. "You sure did _help_ Uncle! I don't need that kind of _help_ from you."

"I didn't have a choice," Fíli whispered bitterly looking away from his brother. He had hoped that once they were safe Kíli would change his mind but it was clear that he hadn't. Fíli felt the little hope that he had allowed to begin to mend his heart dissolve and the pieces break apart again.

"You didn't try!" Kíli yelled, startling all of them. They had never heard the youngest brother raise his voice like that. Especially not to Fíli. The words had been so full of pain and hatred that it was almost unrecognizable as Kíli's voice. Perhaps he _had _meant the words that he had spoken in the caves. Perhaps he _did_ hate Fíli.

"You just did exactly as you were told!" Kíli continued, tears in his eyes and his voice raged and harsh. He was heartbroken at what his brother had done to their uncle and it was clear in his voice. "You didn't even hesitate. Do you even _care_ about what you did? I never would have thought that you were capable of . . . you almost _killed_ him."

"I didn't have a choice," Fíli repeated his voice broken and his face expressionless. Having his baby brother hurling accusations at him after what he had just been through was too much. He couldn't handle this. Not on top of what Kíli had already said to him and what he had done to his uncle. It was too much.

If Kíli knew the pain that he was causing Fíli, he didn't care but just continued on with his tirade.

"You did too!" Kíli yelled moving closer to Fíli so that he could yell in his face. It was the closest that he had voluntarily gotten since Fíli had aided the Great Goblin but Fíli was not comforted by it. Kíli's eyes were burning with hatred still and Fíli didn't recognize his brother in the angry dwarf before him. For the first time in his life he was almost afraid of Kíli.

Then he said the words that caused Fíli's control to fray and threaten to snap. He hadn't intended to yell at Kíli, he had intended to win him back over with gentle words and kindness, but then his brother said the words that he had dreaded hearing.

"You could have refused," Kíli spat.

"I could not!" Fíli snapped his temper beginning to rise to the surface. Kíli had _no_ idea what had happened there. He had no idea what choice he had been forced to make or the agony that it had caused him to make it. And at any rate, Kíli had participated as well. He had no right to judge Fíli for doing the same. Especially when Fíli had done it for Kíli and Kíli had only done it for himself. If anyone had a right to judge another it was Fíli, but he didn't. He understood. He understood that there were hard choices in life. He'd just made some of them.

"Why not?" Kíli asked cruelly, too enraged and hurt to see that he was about to make a grave mistake and push his mellow brother over the edge. Fíli, being older and having had more responsibilities placed on him from a younger age, had better self-control than Kíli did, but he had reached his breaking point. He couldn't handle anything else. Besides, Kíli already hated him. What need did he have to restrain himself? And once provoked, his temper rivaled and perhaps even eclipsed Thorin's and all of it was about to be unleashed on Kíli if he said anything else.

"Were you afraid of pain?" Kíli demanded his tone mocking. "I may not have succeeded, but I did at least try. That's more than I can say for you, _Brother._ You were too cowardly—"

"THAT IS **NOT** TRUE!" Fíli yelled seizing Kíli by the upper arms and giving him a firm shake. The pain that the action cause him only served to feed his rage and spur him on. Kíli was an ignorant _dwarfling_! How could he stand there and hurl accusations when he didn't know what had happened? Especially when he himself had caved after only a few blows!

"If my own pain was all that was all that would have happened I would have refused," Fíli snarled his face inches from Kíli's, rage and madness in his eyes. "And I probably would have outlasted _you_. I am **NOT** a coward and I am **NOT** afraid of pain! I would have rather _died_ that do what I did! Why can't you see that?!"

"Lies," Kíli spat glaring up at his brother. "You—" His words were cut off in a hiss as Fíli's grip on his arms tightened. There would be bruises with Fíli's fingerprints on his arms. Fíli saw the pain that he was causing his brother, but in the face of his rage he couldn't bring himself to care. Kíli _would_ listen to him. Even if he didn't believe what he heard, he _would_ listen. No matter what Fíli had to do to make it happen.

"I am many things, _Brother. _A liar is not one of them. They were going to kill you," Fíli said harshly, giving Kíli another shake as his eyes filling with all the tears that he had refused to shed in the cave. Kíli was looking up at him with fear in his eyes. His brother was afraid of him. He felt his rage fade and his grip slacken as he continued speaking.

"If I refused," he said, sadness filling his voice, "they were going to _kill_ you. I . . . I couldn't let them do it. I promised Mother. I promised Uncle. I promised myself. I couldn't watch you die! Don't you understand? If I hadn't have done what they asked, we would have had to watch you die."

"I couldn't watch you die, Kíli," Fíli repeated, his voice broken, and tears wetting his cheeks as he looked into the shocked face of his brother before roughly releasing his hold on Kíli and looking away. He couldn't stand to see the hatred that would be there after how he had grabbed his brother so aggressively. "I couldn't do it. Uncle knew. He knew what the Goblin threatened to do. He . . . he told me . . . he said, 'if they make you choose, choose Kíli'."

"What I did," Fíli said softly, his words barely audible even to Kíli. "What I did will haunt me forever. But Uncle and I, we did it for _you_. He knew that saving you might kill him but we couldn't watch you die. I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry that you had to see that. But I would do it again if I had to. Even if it would make you hate me forever. At least you would still be alive. Even if you don't want me around, I will always be here."

"I don't hate you," Kíli whispered looking at Fíli with tear-filled eyes. He hadn't realized that Fíli had done what he did for him. He could now see the pain in his brother's blue eyes and knew that Fíli had hated every moment of it. Seconds passed as understanding passed between them, then Kíli found himself crushed against his brother's chest, one of Fíli's hand buried in his hair along with his nose and the other around him. Fíli's hand on his back hurt, but he didn't say anything. He deserved it. The pain of it was only a minor thing in comparison to the pain in his heart at what they had just survived and what he had said to his brother. But they were alive and there was still a chance to fix it. Knowing this, he clung to his brother as they both wept in relief and regret.

"I'm sorry I called you a coward," Kíli whispered. "I didn't mean it. You and Uncle . . . you're the bravest people that I know. I'm sorry that I didn't understand." At his words, Fíli smiled, a sad humorless smile. A simple apology wasn't going to be enough. That Kíli could believe that he would do any of that willingly or that he could say what he had to him . . . it had hurt him. Deeply. An apology once the truth was revealed was not enough. This was not over. Not yet.

"I'm sorry that I shook you," Fíli replied his anger fading and being replaced by sadness once more. He still couldn't believe that his brother would disown him and say that Thorin would as well. He began to question if he had ever known Kíli. He hadn't thought him capable of such cruelty.

"Nah," Kíli waved away his apology with a wry smile. "I deserved it." He could see a guardedness in Fíli's eyes that had never been there before. They may be saying that they were sorry, but he could see that he had hurt his brother. No apology would fix the damage he had done. It would take time. He could see that Fíli was not yet done venting. He was done for now, but this was not over.

"True," Fíli said with a shrug his tone not nearly light enough. He wasn't teasing. He actually felt that Kíli had deserved to be shaken, and perhaps more. It was clear to them all that he was still angry with his brother.

"Are the two of you done?" Balin asked, his tone sharper than he meant it to be at what had been revealed. He had known that the Goblin had to have threatened Kíli, but he wasn't aware that it had been with death. For Fíli to do what he had done for Kíli while enduring not only his own conscious but Kíli's hate-filled words . . . that was too much and Balin couldn't help but feel angry with the youngest heir. Kíli should have known better than to doubt Fíli. None of the rest of them had and they weren't even his brother! And for him to change his mind so quickly . . . Balin didn't blame Fíli for his continued anger.

"We're done," Fíli replied, his tone level again and his words holding a finality that Balin had never heard in him. He had aged more in one night than he had in the last ten years. It should have never happened.

"Then get moving," Balin said with a nod, trying to keep his sorrow out of his voice and the pity from his eyes. "The sooner you leave the sooner we can all eat." The young ones turned to move into the forest Fíli and Kíli as far apart as they could be—by Fíli's doing this time—and still remain with the small group. He realized that someone else needed to go with them. If the brothers' emotions boiled over again and they started brawling Bilbo and Ori would not be able to stop them and even with a broken hand Fíli could hurt Kíli severely. That would do neither of them any good. Someone needed to go along that could separate them before any harm came from another argument. Balin was shocked at the realization. He had never thought that he would have to protect either brother from the other but now . . . he wasn't sure what to expect from either of them.

"Bofur," Balin asked quietly, "will you go with them?"

"Aye," Bofur replied, having realized the same thing that Balin had and jogging forward to catch up with them, positioning himself between Bilbo and Ori and throwing his arms around them with a smile and a "Figured I'd come along. Make sure that Bilbo here doesn't come back with all greens."

Balin watched them until they were out of sight and only once their voices had faded did he turn to the cluster behind him. Glóin and Dwalin had carefully removed Thorin from Dori's back and laid him on a blanket. Bifur had begun tearing spare shirts into bandages with Gandalf and Óin had begun laying out ointments. He looked at the wounds littering Thorin's body and sighed, almost wishing that he could have gone with the lads. This would not be a pleasant experience.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all! A new chapter out! And yes, I do know that Bilbo should not have remained with them during the escape, but it was an intentional mistake. I may regret it later due to the repercussion that such a change will have, but it WAS intentional. That said, I hope that you enjoyed the newest chapter!**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :)**

**Dwli:**** I almost died writing that line. My sister and I haven't always been close, but I can still remember how much it hurt the first time that she said she hated me and with as close as those two are . . . I can't even imagine how much that would hurt. And I'm glad that you felt that it was worth it and hope that this one was as well. And not a problem at all. Thank you for taking the time to read it and leave me a review!**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	7. Closing the Wounds

Despite his assurances that he could hunt, Kíli rapidly discovered that it was not true. His arm ached and when he had tried to draw his bow, the pain in his back had blinded and nearly floored him. He was useless. His only consolation was that Fíli was equally useless at this time. With Fíli's broken hand, he couldn't bring down game. He wondered why Balin had sent the two of them, useless as they were, when the company was in need of food. Bilbo at least had a purpose. He could identify edible plants, even Ori managed to bring down a bird with his slingshot. But Fíli and Kíli . . . Kíli suspected that they had only been sent to get rid of them.

His suspicions were confirmed a bit later when they had stopped to drink from a stream and he heard a cry rend the air from the direction of camp: his uncle's cry. Thorin was in pain. He tried to turn and go back, to help console his uncle or stop the others, he wasn't sure which, but was stopped by Fíli's good hand closing around his arm. He winced as his brother pulled him to a stop abruptly putting yet more strain on his abused back.

"No," Fíli said not noticing Kíli's wince and starting to walk again without releasing his hold on Kíli. "Let them do what they must. They got rid of us for a reason. Let them tend to Uncle and let me tend to you." Kíli nodded slowly. Even if he didn't particularly want to be stripped, he didn't want to argue with his brother. Fíli was already angry enough with him without him being difficult. Kíli tried to remind himself that Fíli only wanted to help before attempting to shrug out of his coat only to stop with a grimace of pain.

"Here, let us help," Bofur said gently. Kíli looked at him in thanks before he allowed Bofur and his brother to help him remove his clothing so that his injuries could be examined. The dark-haired brother flinched at his brother's sympathetic wince. Were his injuries that bad then? Fíli was still livid with him, if he was wincing, Kíli was almost glad that he couldn't see what the Goblin had done to him.

"Durin's beard, Kíli," Fíli gasped out. He was still angry with Kíli, but he felt guilty for thinking that his brother had caved too easily. Even though it had only been a few blows, the entirety of Kíli's back was a livid purple-black bruise. The places where his bones were nearest the skin—his spine and shoulder blades—the skin had broken under the pressure and was slowly weeping blood. He didn't understand how his brother was walking, let alone carrying a pack or trying to hunt. He reached out gently to stroke one of the cuts but pulled his hand back guiltily when Kíli let out a pained hiss and flinched away from him.

"You should have stayed at camp," Fíli breathed, horrified at his younger brother's injuries. Even though he hadn't seen his death, Fíli felt anger flood his veins as he wished a more painful death on the Great Goblin that he had to have gotten.

"I wasn't really given a choice, was I?" Kíli laughed, a mirthless sound that was filled with pain. Even though he attempted to mask it, Fíli could still hear it. "Balin as good as told me to go away."

"True enough," Bofur agreed, none of his characteristic humor present in his words. "But had he've seen this he wouldn't've. Perhaps we should take you back to him." It was nothing short of torture to force the lad to continue with them. Every step had to cause him pain and Bofur had no idea how to treat this. He was a toymaker, not a warrior. He wasn't even sure that Balin and Óin would know. These weren't war wounds, they were torture wounds. He would wager that none of the others had ever had cause to treat something like this either.

"No," Kíli replied, his stubbornness rearing its head once more. If Fíli could hunt with a broken hand and Thorin could endure hours of torture for him, he could hunt with a few bruises, no matter how much they throbbed as he moved.

"But, lad—"

"Give it up, Bofur," Fíli said, his voice hard, both from his lingering agitation with Kíli and his burning anger at what had been done to his baby brother. "Kíli never changes his mind once it's made up. Right, Brother?" Kíli looked at Fíli, indecision in his eyes. He wanted to agree with Fíli, knowing that stubbornness and conviction were admirable qualities in a dwarf, but he knew that it was a trap of sorts. Fíli was subtly calling him out on the abrupt change he had made just a bit earlier. Instead of replying, Kíli turned away, looking at the nasty wound on his forearm. The blood had clotted, matting the hair there and the wound below ached as he moved it. The skin already red and angry, but he supposed that was just a consequence of having been cut open.

"We may as well redress you, lad," Bofur said suddenly trying to break the tension that had risen up between the brothers. Even though he had been sent along as a referee he had no desire to do that job. "I don't know how to treat these injuries. We'll have to have Óin or Balin have a look at you when we get back." With a sigh, Kíli began redressing, stopping after he got his shirt back on. He couldn't bear the thought of moving his arms to put on the rest of his layers and it wasn't _that_ cold out. He could carry the rest. It wasn't like he was actually hunting anyway.

With a despondent sigh, the hunters moved deeper into the woods, trying to ignore the sounds of anguish that were coming from camp behind them. When the sounds faded they weren't sure if it was because they had actually stopped, or if distance or something else entirely had muted them. Rather than resent being sent away, Fíli found that he was grateful. He wasn't sure how much more his nerves could take and seeing Thorin writhing in pain as his wounds were treated might have done him in.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The first thing that Thorin was aware of was the sensation of hands on him. He tried to knock them away and felt a rush of fear when his arms would not comply. Willingly stilling his reactions to save his nephews had been one thing, but to be unable to react was another thing entirely. Especially as he could feel no bonds on him. Why wouldn't his arms move? Slowly the memory of what had happened resurfaced—aided by the ache in his shoulders—and he remembered the Goblin dislocating his shoulders. He felt cold dread settle into his stomach, twisting it into knots. He was unbound, being touched by goblins and his arms wouldn't move. It didn't bode well for his continued survival.

Feeling panic begin to flood his chest, making his already difficult breathing all the more painful, he forced his eyes open, wincing at the brightness of sunlight before snapping them shut again. Sunlight . . . it meant that he was no longer with the goblins. Slowly his memories were returning to him. The bright flash. It must have been Gandalf. Which meant that . . . slowly he began to register the sound of voices. Voices he recognized.

"Hold him still, Brother," he heard Balin's strained voice say. "I don't want to do this more than once." He heard Dwalin grunt in agreement, and felt the arm that was around his chest tighten. He could also hear the voices of Glóin, Óin and Gandalf. But he didn't hear his nephews' voices. Did that mean that the boys . . . where were his nephews? Were they alright? That question was enough incentive for him to ignore the stabbing pain in his eyes and to force them open once more. He glanced around in panic, seeing many of the others but not Fíli or Kíli. They couldn't be . . . he swallowed convulsively at the thought he couldn't even finish, feeling his raw throat burn as it protested the abuse.

"The boys," he said surprised at the hoarseness and lack of volume of his own words. He only felt vaguely embarrassed at the panic that was clear in the raspy words. At that moment, his fear for his nephews was more important than his pride. "Where are the boys?"

"They're not here," Balin replied gently. Thorin felt a wave of pain wash over him that had nothing to do with his wounds. Balin's tone had been too gentle. He was trying to console Thorin. He bowed his head as he now knew then that they hadn't made it. They were still with the goblins. Even as he tried to stop, his mind conjured images of Kíli bleeding and he relived the memory of his nephew's desperate pleas amid cries of pain. His desires to see his boys alive once more warred with his desire for them not to be in pain. If they were still with the goblins, they would be in pain unless they were dead. There was no way that he could win.

"We have to go back for them," Thorin said his voice desperate as he tried to get his feet under him and stand but Dwalin's arm around him restrained him, an iron hold that he fought desperately and futilely against. "We can't leave them there. Even if . . . we at least . . . we need to recover the . . . the bodies." The words burned as they came up his throat and he felt as though they had drug his heart up with them. He didn't care that his voice had broken or that there were what could be seen as tears in his eyes. It didn't matter. Even though he knew it to be true, he couldn't believe that his boys, his precious _reckless_ boys, were dead.

"Calm down, Thorin," Dwalin said, his gruff tones almost soothing, which broke Thorin's heart even more. If _Dwalin_ was trying to soothe him, the boys were truly lost. He was so distraught that he almost missed the warrior's next words.

"The lads are fine," Dwalin promised. "We just sent them and all the young ones on an errand. They'll be back."

"You sent them . . ." Thorin said slowly slumping back against Dwalin, his relief causing him to feel weak. They were alive. He allowed a small smile to cross his face and a pained laugh to pass his lips. The boys were fine. They weren't dead or dying. They had made it out safely. He would get to see them again. Euphoria took the place of anguish, and Thorin was almost giddy with it, until Balin's next words doused his relief like hot iron placed into cool water.

"We didn't think that they needed to be here for this," Balin said, regretting that he had to remind Thorin of what was to come or of what he and the lads had suffered. "The poor lads are traumatized enough already and this will not be pleasant." Thorin nodded, his smile fading along with the joy that had been in his eyes. He knew that Balin was right. No matter how much he wanted to see them and see for himself that they were unharmed it was better that they be elsewhere while his wounds were treated.

"Let's get this over with before they get back," Thorin said closing his eyes in anticipation of yet more pain. He wasn't sure how much more he could bear, but this _had _to be done. It could not be put off until he was ready or it might be too late. Balin nodded, seeming to sense his reluctance, and grabbed Thorin's arm to prepare to pop it back into socket with an apologetic half-smile for his King. Thorin tried to return it but knew that he had failed when Balin grimaced.

"On the count of ten," Balin said looking levelly into Thorin's blue eyes. The King clenched his jaw and swallowed but nodded curtly. "One . . . two . . . three . . ." As Balin counted Thorin did everything that he could to relax. He knew that they would never make it to ten but he wasn't sure when Balin would decide to do it. The move came on seven: a quick motion that left Thorin breathless for a moment before he began to breathe rapidly through his teeth in an effort not to cry out, an effort that wasn't helped as the increased depth and rate of his breathing pulled on clotted wounds painfully.

"That wasn't ten," Thorin panted with a wry smile on his face as the tide of pain faded once more to a dull ache and he trusted his voice to at least be audible.

"No," Balin agreed. "It wasn't ten. Does it work?" Balin asked nodding at the arm he had just reset. Thorin moved it gingerly. It answered his call, painfully, but it answered all the same. Even though he knew that Balin had seen it move, he nodded all the same.

"Good," Balin said, his eyes losing the slight sparkle that they had possessed only moments before. "Now for the other one." He stood and walked behind Dwalin seating himself into position to relocate Thorin's other shoulder.

"Don't bother counting this time," Thorin growled. "I'm not a child. Just—" His words cut off in a strangled sound of pain as Balin popped his arm back into place. He glared at his old friend and was slightly amused when Balin shrugged in response. Again Thorin moved it carefully and cringed as it ached. But it moved and it was going to ache either way. At least this way he would have limited use of it.

"Thank you," Thorin said looking at Balin. Even though the other dwarf had hurt him in the process, it had been necessary. He was of no use to anyone with both of his arms out of socket. Even with them back in, it would be some time before they were back to normal. He only hoped that they could avoid getting into another situation like the one under the Misty Mountains until he had at least healed enough to wield a sword.

"Don't thank me yet, Thorin," Balin replied seriously. "We still have to treat the rest of your wounds. The lads really did a number on you. Fíli especially."

"He didn't have a choice," Thorin snarled harshly. He knew that there had been no condemnation in Balin's words, but he would not even allow the _idea_ that his nephews were responsible for this in any way to be suggested. They had done what they had to do. Even though they had hurt him, he was proud of them. Both of them had made difficult choices and he would not allow them to be judged on them. He already intended to have words with Kíli about what he had said about his brother. No one—not even the boys themselves—would be permitted to blame them for this.

"We know," Dwalin growled, anger at the goblins coloring his words. He couldn't believe that _bastard_ had threatened Kíli's life to force Fíli to comply. That fact alone made him wish they would have had the time to kill him in a more appropriate fashion. His death at Gandalf's hands had been too quick. There had been no pain. He probably hadn't even known that he was dying before it happened.

At Thorin's confused look, Balin explained. "The lads had it out while you were still unconscious," he said quietly, his eyes pained. "Kíli had some harsh words for his brother and Fíli reacted in kind. They're . . . they're upset by this. Fíli . . . you'll just have to see him for yourself. I think the sight of you conscious will help him. Poor lad. Though they . . . you'll just have to see."

"But the sight of us tending your wounds won't help him," Glóin said his voice abnormally tight. "We need to get this over with. I'm not sure how much longer they will be gone. It'll only take them so long to find food."

"Do it," Thorin agreed. He knew that the cleaning of his wounds would be painful and that some of the ones Fíli had left, as well as the stab wound in his shoulder were deep enough to need cauterizing to stop them from bleeding so that they could continue to travel, since camping on the doorstep to Goblin Town was out of the question. There was no way that he would be able to endure _that_ in silence. This needed to be done before the boys returned.

"We have to clean them," Balin warned more for himself that the King. Thorin had seen enough wounds in his time to know the order of things. "We have no water so we'll have to use—"

"Just. Do. It," Thorin ground out. He didn't need them to coddle him. He would have preferred to treat his wounds himself but they were too numerous and he knew that he could not clean and close them alone. Balin didn't say anything, but he did look at Thorin with regret and pity before he uncorked the flask in his hand.

"Would you like a drink before we start?" He offered, his tone making it clear that he hoped that Thorin would take it, _lots_ of it. As the King shook his head, Balin sighed. He nodded to Glóin who grabbed one of Thorin's arms and his shoulder to restrain him while Dwalin shifted slightly to grab the other and move his own arm out of the way. With no warning other than a weighted glance at Óin, Balin and Óin began their work.

Thorin tried to curl in upon himself as the first of the alcohol poured into the cuts on his chest but was restrained by Dwalin and Glóin's hands on his arms and shoulders. Almost worse that the sting of the alcohol was the rasp of the cloth as Balin and Óin worked in tandem to clean off the blood that had dried on his skin and better see the wounds. He clinched his jaw in an attempt to keep from crying out only to feel Dwalin lightly slap his face.

"Open your mouth," the warrior growled. Thorin opened his eyes to see Dwalin holding out a strip of leather. "Can't have you breaking teeth in your stubbornness. Now bite this instead." Thorin nodded and bit down savagely on the strip of leather. No sooner had he done so than Balin probed one of the deeper wounds causing a cry to rise up his throat. A cry that was muffled by the leather. It was only the first of many as the cleaning continued.

By the time they decided that his wounds were clean enough, Thorin was exhausted. He had been through too much in the past day and his ability to endure it was long gone. His head drooped forward and his breathing was rapid and shallow. His blue eyes were half lidded and clouded with pain.

"We're almost done, lad," Balin said, his voice strained. He swallowed hard before he continued speaking. What they had to do next was going to be worse for Thorin than simply cleaning his wounds had been. They now had to close the deepest ones.

"Almost done," Balin said placing a hand on the king's face in an attempt to comfort him. Thorin didn't even show any sign that he had heard Balin's words or felt the touch. The white-headed dwarf's hands shook as he took the heated sword from the fire. He could only hope that Thorin's lack of coherency extended to his ability to sense pain because there was no easy way to do what now had to be done and if it didn't . . . this was truly going to hurt.

"Almost done," Balin said once more, this time in an attempt to reassure himself more so than Thorin who didn't seem to be lucid anymore. Even without lucidity, Thorin cried out as the sword was pressed to his flesh and though Balin flinched at the sound, he kept the sword pressed firmly against the wound. A task that was made even more difficult since Thorin struggled in vain against Dwalin and Glóin in an attempt to get away from the searing pain. They held him tightly, knowing that it was for his own good, even though it broke their hearts to do so. Especially when he began begging them to stop or to just let him die.

They continued in this manner for some time: Balin searing the deeper wounds to stop the bleeding alternating swords in the fire so that he didn't have to wait overlong between wounds, while Dwalin and Glóin restrained the king and Óin added salves and bandages to the newest burns. They knew that it would be more humane to have Óin wait until Balin was done, but they wanted to be done with this grizzly task before the young ones returned. They didn't need to see the angry burns left by the crude treatment they had been forced to use.

"Just one more, Thorin," Dwalin said harshly. It had been hard on him to watch his king and friend so broken. Thorin was a proud dwarf and to see him reduced to tears and begging by pain that they were inflicting on him, it was hard for the warrior to watch. He wasn't sure if it was better that Thorin had grown to weary and hoarse to beg any more, his pleas reducing down to mere sobs and whimpers that were almost worse for the dejectedness of them.

"Last one," Balin agreed approaching Thorin with a heated dagger. He had left the wound in his shoulder for last, hoping—as had happened—that Thorin would be too exhausted to react overmuch when he pushed the heated dagger into the stab wound. If Thorin bucked it would cause more damage than good, potentially widening the wound or even severing the muscle.

"Hold him tight lads," Balin said hoping that they would be able to restrain the king. With a deep sigh, Balin pressed the knife into the wound flinching as Thorin found the strength to scream out once more before falling silent as he passed back out of consciousness.

Balin's hand was shaking as he began to remove the dagger from the wound. He tried to still it, knowing that if he wasn't careful he would cut Thorin himself, but the more he concentrated on making it stop the worse the shaking grew. He was about to close his other hand around it and still it manually, when Dwalin's hand covered his own, the touch surprisingly gentle, and helped him to remove the dagger smoothly.

Balin nodded his thanks before smoothing some of Óin's salve over the wound and wrapping the final bandage around it. He helped Dwalin to gently lay their unconscious king on the makeshift bed before placing his hand on Dwalin's shoulder and resting his forehead against his brother's. He couldn't imagine being forced to make the decision that Fíli had been forced to make that day. He still felt the need to protect his younger brother. Not that Dwalin needed his protection much anymore, but they had been young once and he had been bigger for a time. There were nine years between them and he could still remember the night that Dwalin had been born. He'd been such a small thing. Things had changed, Dwalin was a giant of a dwarf now, but Balin knew that he would have done exactly as Fíli had if it meant saving his brother's life. He would give his own life if that was what it took to insure that Dwalin survived.

Even though the words were not said, they didn't need to be. Dwalin understood. A small smile on his face, he placed a hand on the back of Balin's head, attempting to comfort him. He understood the turn that his brother's thoughts had taken because his own had gone the same direction. Even though he was younger and society placed no burden on him to protect Balin, he would do anything that it took to save him pain. That was why he had such difficulty understanding Kíli's words. They may not have had as long together, as they were younger—Kíli barely more than a dwarfling—but they were also closer that Dwalin and Balin had ever been, what with only being five years apart rather than the more standard nine. Kíli should have known that Fíli had not wanted to do it. Dwalin would _never_ have assumed that Balin would do something like that for no reason and Kíli should not have assumed it of Fíli. If Thorin didn't have words with the lad—or perhaps even if he did—Dwalin intended to: one younger brother to another.

They broke apart after far too long a time, fully expecting that the others would be staring at them strangely for their uncommon show of emotion, but they had all paired off as well.

Óin and Glóin were sitting together, heads abnormally close and Glóin was rebraiding his brother's beard. Dori and Nori, who seemed most days like they would like nothing more than to throttle the other, were sitting side-by-side near the fire touching from shoulder to hip as though they needed to reassure one another of their continued presence and solidarity. What had happened in the cave between Fíli and Kíli had affected them all. They all questioned what choice they would have made in that situation, especially in the case of Fíli. It was no wonder that the poor lad was changed. He had been given the worse choice imaginable: the choice between a father—which is what Thorin _truly_ was to him—and a brother. No one could come through that unchanged.

The somber atmosphere of the camp was not broken when the boys in question and the others retuned with food (a couple of hares, a bird of some kind and some wild produce) which they gave to Bombur before turning to Thorin, the boys' desire to see their uncle overriding their hunger.

"How is he?" Fíli asked, his eyes tight and his tone showing that he dreaded the answer. He had heard his uncle's cries of pain and knew that they had come from his wounds being treated. He looked at his uncle carefully. Thorin was asleep, but his face was not relaxed. Pain still pinched his features and small moans came from him as he breathed. Most of his torso was covered in bandages, some with blood already beginning to seep through, and he looked inexplicably small, much smaller that Fíli remembered him being. He didn't know much about wounds of this magnitude, but he could guess that it wasn't a good sign that his uncle was in pain even while unconscious.

"He'll be alright," Balin replied placing a hand on the young heir's shoulder and giving him a small smile. "He's strong. We've treated his wounds. He'll survive this, you'll see." Fíli didn't seem convinced. All he could see was his uncle's pained expression and see the way his breathing hitched. The reassurances of Balin almost fell on deaf ears.

"Why is he still unconscious?" Fíli demanded. He may be young, but he knew that his uncle had been unconscious for too long. It was a bad sign and didn't bode well for his recovery. Even if he had been awake enough to cry out while he was being treated, the lack of consciousness now made Fíli worry, especially as restless as Thorin seemed.

"He's just resting, lad," Balin said, squeezing Fíli's shoulder gently. "He was awake a bit ago. He's worried about the two of you." Fíli gave a small humorless laugh in reply. That was his uncle. Thorin could be on his death bed and the first thing he would worry about would be something other than himself.

"What did you tell him?" Kíli asked his voice thin and tentative, almost as if he was reluctant to remind them that he was there. "Does he know about . . ." he couldn't bring himself to mention the fights he had had with Fíli. Now that the truth was out he was terribly embarrassed at what he had said. He wasn't sure that he could bear to have his uncle know what he had said to his brother. He still couldn't believe that he had believed Fíli capable of torturing their uncle for his own amusement.

"Aye," Balin replied, his eyes hard. "He knows." He saw as the Kíli's shoulders drooped but couldn't bring himself to feel too much remorse for telling Thorin what had happened when he was unconscious. If Dwalin had ever said to him what Kíli had said to Fíli . . . to be honest, Fíli's response had been quite tame in his opinion.

"But enough of this," Balin said, his tone showing that he would take no debate on this as he looked at the youngest heir of Durin. "We've already tended to your uncle, now it's your turn. Let me have a look at your wounds."

"They've already been looked at," Kíli replied stubbornly. He had no desire to have his wounds bared to the company when there was no need. "Fíli and Bofur already saw them." It wasn't truly a lie. They had seen them, even if they hadn't actually done anything for them.

"Even so," Balin replied taking the young dwarf by the hand and leading him over to the fire, "I would like to look them over." Kíli looked to his brother for help but Fíli just shrugged. In all honesty he was relieved that Balin wanted to look his brother over. They had looked at them, but they hadn't _done _anything about them. He hadn't known how. Even the smaller scrapes he or Kíli had had as children had been treated by his mother or his uncle. He had never needed to do it and he had no idea how. He had felt helpless.

"Just let him look, Kíli," Fíli said, his tone cold. He didn't understand Kíli's reluctance to have his wounds treated. They had to pain him. Did he want them to get infected? It wasn't like Balin was going to hurt him more than he had to and even their uncle had submitted to be treated. It wouldn't shame Kíli. He was just behaving immaturely again.

"It won't hurt anything," Fíli added as an afterthought.

"Traitor," Kíli called, but there was no real heat behind the word. He was teasing Fíli. And it caused a smile to creep onto the faces of most of the company. Even if both boys still had a haunted look in their eyes, it was a good sign for their recovery that they would be teasing one another. The only ones that didn't appreciate the word were Fíli—who flinched despite the gentle tone it had been delivered in since he had as good as heard in it a much less kind tone not long ago—and Balin and Dwalin. The older two did not see it so much as teasing as a flippant outlook on the pain that he had caused his brother that he would use that _particular_ word after accusing Fíli of hurting Thorin without cause.

"Are you sure that you don't want to look at Bilbo?" Kíli asked desperately, trying to shift the focus of the group away from himself. "He's got some nasty looking scraps on his hands. Or perhaps Fíli. His hand is still broken and unset. Surely that is more critical than my wounds."

"Their turn will come," Balin replied his tone clipped. He knew that it was wrong of him, but he couldn't help the fact that at the moment he had little patience for Kíli's antics. "But right now it is yours. Either you help me in removing your shirt or Dwalin will help me take it off you." Kíli looked at Dwalin in panic—surely he wouldn't!—but Dwalin crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. Kíli felt his shoulders droop and winced at the movement. Dwalin would help. There was nothing to do for it. He would have to comply. With a deep sigh and a grimace against the pain that he knew would follow, he began to try to remove his shirt for the second time that day.

"That's a good lad," Balin said with a fond smile, even if he was irritated with him at the moment, he really was fond of Kíli. The boy really was like his uncle in more than just appearance and his grudging acceptance of their aid showed it clearly. "I knew you'd see things our way." Balin had to allow himself a small laugh at the glare and sneer that followed his words. He only regretted that Thorin hadn't seen it. That had been a glare worthy of the king himself.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter :) I hope that it was worth the wait!**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :)**

**Dwíli: ****I'm sorry that chapter hurt :'( and it is the worst feeling in the world. My sister and I are even closer in age (2 years apart) and there were many fights were hurtful things got said and they wound so deeply . . . forgiveness almost seems impossible. But they will eventually patch things up; it'll just take a bit. (I actually have the forgiveness scene figured out) Again, thank you so much for the compliment! **

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	8. Setting Bones and Opening Fresh Wounds

Despite his efforts to comply with Balin's order, Kíli found that he truly couldn't do it. He tried, oh how he tried, but every angle he could think of to pull his shirt over his head resulted in unbearable pain. He looked at the older dwarf that he almost saw as a second uncle and shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed in defeat. "I-I can't do it. It hurts too much and I-I just can't do it."

At his words, and the sight of his tear-filled brown eyes, Balin felt remorse flood through him. The only reason that he hadn't moved to help the lad had been that he had thought Kíli was being deliberately slow to show his protest of the treatment. He hadn't realized that the boy wasn't delaying but was actually unable to do remove his shirt alone. Kíli had been struggling in pain and Balin had stood there and watched. A wave of self-loathing flooded through him and when he next spoke his words were gentle. Before him stood a scared, hurt and upset dwarfling, not some malicious villain. He didn't deserve Balin's frustrations with him any more than Fíli had deserved Kíli's words earlier.

"It's alright, laddie," Balin said his voice comforting as he touched the young dwarf's hand since he wasn't sure if Kíli would be comforted by a touch to the shoulder. "Would you like me to help you?" Kíli said nothing, but nodded, his eyes sad and bitter tears still clinging to the lashes.

"I can do that," Balin said, feeling tear prickle his own eyes. Fíli, Thorin, Kíli, they had been through too much that day. Even Thorin had broken under the pressure. If someone who had seen and experienced as much as Thorin had crumbled, what chance did Kíli, who had never left home before, have? The lad should never have been in that position and even if it had been unavoidable, he should not now have to suffer the ire of his company.

"Dwalin, will you help me?" Balin asked, calling his brother over. The warrior nodded and took his place behind Kíli to help remove the shirt. It had to come over his head and there was no way to do it without Kíli lifting his arms.

"Lift your arms," Dwalin ordered gruffly. "We'll just slide it right over and be done with it." Kíli nodded at the order and complied, small sobs and gasps coming from him as he did. Dwalin fought the urge to roll his eyes. The boy couldn't be _that_ injured. He'd taken, at most, ten blows and they had been through his clothes. True, there was blood on his shirt, but it wasn't all that much. Dwalin's movements were not particularly gentle as he removed the lad's shirt, not realizing that care was actually needed.

However, as the shirt was peeled away and the bruising underneath revealed, Dwalin felt the blood drain from his face and instantly repented of his harsh thoughts and treatment of Kíli. The only spots that weren't bruised black were the places that were red from the blood seeping out. In all his years the warrior had never seen such bruising.

"Oh, Kíli," Dwalin breathed, the same tone that he had used when trying to comfort Thorin earlier, one that Kíli had never heard from the warrior before. Much like he had been with his brother, Kíli was suddenly glad that he couldn't see his back. "I'm so sorry, lad. Had I have known I would have been more gentle." His tone shocked Balin and he came around Kíli to see for himself what would cause Dwalin to pale.

"By Mahal," Balin breathed. How was the boy standing let alone trying to hunt or carry a pack? He had no business doing either of those things. He should never have left camp.

"You said that you could hunt," Balin said, his words clearly showing his distress.

"I didn't want to disappoint you," Kíli said, his words quiet filled with tears. "I didn't want you to think I was weak, not after . . ." he trailed off. His weaknesses that day were too numerous to list. From _begging_ the Goblin to stop, to turning on Fíli . . . he knew that he was weak; he didn't need everyone else to know it as well. That was why he hadn't wanted to have his wounds tended. He should have had the strength to do it himself. His uncle would have in his position.

Balin wanted to say that Kíli could never disappoint him, but it wasn't true. He had been disappointed in the way the lad had treated his brother. Instead he sighed.

"What's done is done," Balin said, as much to himself as the younger dwarf. "Let's do what we can to get you cleaned up. I'm afraid there's not much to be done for bruises and you're just going to have to wait for them to heal. But the cuts need cleaned and I need to make sure you haven't broken anything. I'll be as gentle as I can, but this is going to hurt. We have no water to boil, so we'll—"

"There is too water!" Kíli cut in. He knew that the only other alternative was alcohol and it would hurt—no _burn_—more than the water would. "We found a stream. That way!"

"A stream?" Dori asked while the rest of the company perked up. A stream meant stew—more filling that roasted meat—and a bath.

"Yes," Kíli continued, his voice desperate. "That way!"

"Come with me," Bofur offered. "I'll lead the way!" Even though only a few of them—those filling water skins or filling the pot—truly had an excuse, soon everyone was gone from the clearing, save for Bilbo, who no one noticed, Balin, Dwalin, Óin, Glóin and the heirs of Durin.

"Good," Balin said with a smile. "We didn't need an audience for this. Have a drink, lad." Balin offered the same flask to Kíli that Thorin had refused earlier and Kíli drank gratefully, hoping that the strong spirits would dull his pain.

"Good lad," Balin said with a smile, pouring a bit of the liquid onto a cloth. "Let's get started."

"But shouldn't we wait—"

"They're not coming back, laddie," Balin said. "Not until they're sure we're done. They don't want to watch this any more than I want to do it or you want me to. No, they'll be gone a good long while." His eyes flicked away from Kíli's face and suddenly Dwalin's hand was around his unhurt wrist and he was being pulled gently but firmly against the large warrior, where Dwalin held him despite Kíli's whimpered protests at the pressure the position put on his wounds.

"I am sorry, lad," Dwalin whispered in his ear, his tone showing the truth of his words. "I know I'm hurting you but this will be easier if you don't move away. I _have_ to hold you here. I'm sorry." Kíli never had a chance to reply, because Balin's hand had grabbed his other wrist and then there was fire in his veins as the alcohol met the wound. Kíli screamed and tried to move away from the fire, but Balin's unrelenting hold on his wrist and Dwalin's hold on him would not allow it.

After what seemed like an eternity to all of them, Balin deemed that the wound on Kíli's arm was clean enough and stopped. Even once the cloth was gone, the burn of alcohol remained and it was some time before Kíli's sobs subsided. By that time, Balin had already wrapped the wound and was looking at him with sad eyes. The next part would not be pleasant either. As Dwalin shifted his hold on Kíli so that Balin could check the wounds on his back, the thought suddenly crossed Balin's mind that if he never again had to patch up the heirs of Durin it would be too soon. As it was, their cries of pain at the things he had been forced to do to them would haunt him forever.

He exchanged a glance with Dwalin, trying to borrow some strength from his brother for what he was about to do. With a sigh and a hard swallow, he reached forward and began probing the wounds on Kíli's back to check for breaks in his ribcage. The anguished sound rising from the young dwarf caused Balin to flinch, but he continued on. Even once Kíli began to beg him to stop, he searched. This was for Kíli's good, no matter how much it hurt them both in the process.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Fíli watched Balin begin working on his brother and fought down the urge to go and comfort him. He would only be in the way and Kíli was in pain, which made him vicious even when it was only a little thing. He remembered when they had been children and Kíli had fallen out of a tree, bruising his shoulder and spraining his wrist. He had howled like someone had stabbed him when Óin had treated the wounds, Fíli standing there to try to distract him from the pain. At the time he had smiled at the barbs that Kíli had thrown his way. He knew that his brother hadn't meant them, he was just hurt and needed to lash out. Now, however, after what Kíli had already said to him, he wasn't sure if his nerves could stand the things that his brother might hiss in his pain without thinking or if Kíli could stand what he might say in return.

So he stood and watched, wincing as Kíli cried out in pain and feeling guilty, not only because he could do nothing to help him, but also for the bruises that he could see encircling Kíli's arms where he had grabbed his brother earlier. Kíli might have been wrong in what he had said, but even through his hurt and anger, Fíli couldn't help but think that, perhaps, he had been wrong to grab his brother so.

He jumped when he felt a hand come down on his shoulder and felt his stomach twist as he turned his head to see Glóin's red hair. Now he knew why they had stayed. His turn wasn't going to be after Kíli: it was now. He could feel fear tightening his chest. They were going to set his hand. It was going to hurt.

"Can't this wait?" Fíli asked desperate to stall the pain as long as he could. He offered the only explanation that he thought would get him out of it for a time. "Kíii needs me." He felt Glóin's mirthless laugh as the other dwarf grabbed him just a Dwalin had grabbed Kíli, his good arm held against his chest by both of Glóin's and his back pressed firmly into the older dwarf.

"We both know that you have no intention of going over there, lad," Glóin said as he pulled the younger dwarf flush against him. "Besides, the sooner we get the two of you patched up, the sooner we get to eat and the sooner the two of you can start making up." Fíli slumped in defeat at his cousin's words. There really was no point in putting it off. It was going to hurt no matter when they did it. They may as well get it over with. _Maybe I'm wrong about the pain,_ he thought desperately. _Maybe Óin knew some way to set breaks painlessly? _It sounded foolish even in his own head; even so, he couldn't resist the urge to ask.

"Óin?" Fíli asked nervously as the old healer approached him. The older dwarf looked at him and saw what was undeniably fear in the Fíli's blue eyes. "This is going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Aye, lad," Óin agreed with a sad nod. It would do him no good to lie to the boy "That it will." Fíli bit his lip. He had been afraid of that. He still remembered how it had hurt when the Goblin searched for the break. He hadn't been able to contain his scream that time, or even think, through the pain. He knew that this time would be no different.

"It'll be alright, Fíli," Óin said gently, placing a hand on the frightened young dwarf's shoulders. "The pain will be intense, but it will pass and this has to be done."

"It's not the pain, not really," Fíli tried to explain his fear that he would disgrace himself by crying out. Kíli was younger, little more than a child, his lack of composure was understandable, but he . . . he was Thorin's heir and an adult . . . sort of. The rules that applied to him were different that the rules that applied to Kíli, they always had been. Not that he resented his brother for it, or his Uncle or Mother. They had always tried to be fair; it was the rest of the dwarf world that had done it. Ever since they were children people had expected more from him than his brother. He was expected to act like a prince of the line of Durin even if there was no throne for him to ascend to. What was about to happen . . . his behavior would not be a credit to his line.

"It's . . ." Fíli tried again to explain it, but was unable to form the words.

"Oh, lad," Óin sighed understanding what Fíli couldn't put into words. "Don't worry about crying out. I've been a healer for longer than you've been alive. I've seen it all. From new babes to old warriors. When pain rides them harshly none can restrain their cries. I have been pled with, bargained with, _threatened_. There is nothing that you can do that I have not seen. You need not worry about that. There is no shame in it."

"But is it not a weakness, crying out?" Fíli demanded. He had been raised from a young age with the belief that dwarves did not cry, not in public. And that a true dwarf, let alone an heir of Durin, had control over himself at all times. Crying out in pain was not being under control, no one had ever said it, but he knew it to be true.

"Perhaps normally," Óin replied sagely, "but in a sick room, no. And none here would think you weak even if you do, lad. We saw what you did today. I know you won't want to hear this, but the worst moment of your life gained you our respect. You cannot now lose it, especially not for crying out while a bone is set."

"Besides," Glóin added from his position behind Fíli, "the others all went to the stream. All that would witness it are your brother and your cousins. And we will never tell. We won't even tell your uncle." At their reassurances, Fíli nodded and closed his eyes, trying to brace himself for the pain. When Óin touched his fingers, the pain that had faded to a dull ache flared to new life and sent a line of fire up his arm to his shoulder. He felt a whimper rise up his throat and he attempted to pull back only to be stopped by the solid bulk of Glóin.

The healer didn't apologize for what he was about to do, but it didn't stop the feelings of remorse he felt as he began to feel for the break. No matter how many times he heard cries of pain, he never got used to it. Even so, he tightened his hold on the younger dwarf's wrist as Fíli struggled to pull it away and stop the molten pain now radiating up his arm. Óin knew when he found it. Even if he hadn't felt the bone move, the strangled cry that came from the blonde heir would have told him. But he didn't even flinch at it, though it broke his heart to force the boy to endure his probing fingers as he searched for more breaks. Fíli had been lucky. There was just the one and it was a fairly easy set. He grabbed Fíli's middle knuckle and pulled away from his wrist to allow the bone to realign, trying to block out his scream, before flattening out his hand and binding sticks under the palm to keep it that way.

With the hand immobilized, Óin felt along the bone and was satisfied that it was set before he wrapped it more firmly with the bandages they had made to attempt to protect it from being jostled. Fíli was leaning heavily on Glóin, his breathing coming in short, quiet sobs.

"You did good, lad," Óin offered. "You did good."

"That he did," Thorin said gently. They all jumped at the sound of a quiet, hoarse voice from beside them and turned to look at their King, who was currently sitting up supported by their hobbit with a cross between a smile and a grimace on his pale, bruised face. Thorin had woken to their cries and the hobbit had helped him to sit—after reassuring the panicked king that his nephews were alive, well, and being treated not tortured.

"He did very well today," Thorin said, thinking of everything that Fíli had done and how well he had risen to the situation. Fíli had done very well indeed. As had Kíli, though Thorin sighed as he recalled what Kíli had said.

"Uncle!" Fíli cried, overjoyed at seeing his uncle sitting up and awake. Glóin didn't try to restrain him as he dropped to his knees beside his uncle, for a moment it seemed that he would draw him into a hug but then he thought better of it. Instead, he placed his good hand in his uncle's hair and pressed their foreheads together gently, his eyes squeezed tight against the tears that threatened to flow.

"I'm so glad that you are alright," Fíli whispered, his voice choked with tears. "I thought . . . I feared . . ." He couldn't bring himself to say that he had thought that he had killed his uncle.

"I'll be fine," Thorin promised and Fíli felt him flinch as Kíli's screams started again while Balin probed his wounds. "_Mahal_! I cannot bear that sound," Thorin's words were almost a sob and he suddenly seized Fíli, mindless of his own injuries and crushed his nephew to his chest as if he needed to reassure himself that they had survived and would continue to do so. His fingers clutching at Fíli's shoulders were painful and were sure to leave bruises, but Fíli said nothing, too glad that his uncle was alive and had the strength to hold him in such a way after all the pain he had experienced and the blood he had lost.

**ooOO88OOoo**

After what seemed like an eternity, Kíli was treated and bandaged, though he remained shirtless as the prospect of lifting his arms again was too much for him. Once he was sure that the lad could stand on his own, Dwalin released him and allowed him to make his way over to his uncle and brother. Kíli's legs shook, but they held him and as he tottered over, the rest of the dwarves exchanged meaningful glances and followed the rest of the company to the stream.

Bilbo saw them leaving and realized that they were trying to give the small family a little alone time. He hastily stood to follow them only to be stopped.

"Halfling," Thorin called, looking at him with an unfathomable expression on his face and emotion in his blue eyes. "I want to . . . I wish to thank you. You took a great risk in attempting to aid us with the Goblin. You had no need to get involved yet you did. Much like with our quest in general. I now see the kind of hobbit you are. I have been unnecessarily harsh with you and for that I apologize. Gandalf chose wisely in naming you as our fourteenth member. If you do nothing else on this quest you have already earned your reward by my accounting. Thank you."

Bilbo sputtered a moment, his face going a bit red before he waved the thanks away with a fond smile at them, "I just did what I needed to," Bilbo replied. "I did what I could to help. I'm sure that any of you would have done the same for me. As I recall, _you_ took a great risk to save me, and a good deal more successfully than I managed, I might add. We're a company. That's how companies work, is it not?"

"That it is," Thorin agreed with a smile. "And you are correct. _We_ are a company. Even so, thank you." Bilbo nodded in acceptance of the dwarf King's thanks and turned to follow the others to the stream. Thorin watched him go, wondering at the strange creature that had come on the quest with them. But soon his mind was occupied with other thoughts, like the fact that Kíli was still standing and looking down at them with longing in his eyes and a torn expression on his face.

"Kíli," Thorin offered, thinking that they boy just needed an invitation, "come, lad. Join us." His sharp eyes didn't miss the twitch around the eyes of the oldest when Kíli used his shoulder to help ease his passing to the ground or the way that Fíli moved away from his brother as soon as Kíli sat. This was what Balin had meant. Fíli was still angry with Kíli. Not that Thorin blamed him . . . it was just unexpected.

"Kíli," The king said, his soft voice filled with censure. The boy flinched at the tone. He had heard it before. He uncle was going to lecture him for what he had done. He knew that he deserved it, but he was already feeling fragile and knew that he couldn't stand to hear it. Not right now.

"Kíli's already apologized to me, Uncle," Fíli said, but unlike when he had interfered in the past, there was no comforting arm around his brother, no soft reassurances. His tone was cold, showing clearly that the apology had not been enough and forcing Kíli to give another would not change that: no apology would ever be enough. Kíli fought back a sob at his brother's coldness and felt anger rise within him to combat the anguish he felt at it.

"Be that as it may," Thorin replied, arching a brow at Fíli's tone, "I still feel that I should tell him that his behavior was unacceptable. He should never have spoken to you in that manner. There was no need for it. Kíli should have known that—"

"That what, Uncle?" Kíli demanded. He had been angry with Fíli, but now Thorin's words fanned the flames of his anger and it burst out in a new direction, leading him to interrupt his uncle. "What should I have know?"

"That Fíli and I were doing what we needed to do to keep you safe," Thorin answered, his own voice hard. Kíli had never questioned him before. It was unlike him, especially when the answer was obvious. "That we were protecting you."

"And how was I supposed to know that?" Kíli demanded, tears in his eyes again. He had _never_ yelled at Thorin before and doing so now—when his Uncle was already wounded—broke his heart but it had to be said. His pride demanded it. They, at least, needed to understand why he had thought what he did.

"Was I supposed to guess it? How was I supposed to know?" Kíli continued.

"You should have known because it was _me,_" Fíli said glaring at his brother. "Why else would I have done it? I love Uncle just as much as you do. If the Goblin hadn't threatened to kill you . . . you should have known it would take something like that to force me to hurt him."

"Why should I have had to guess? Why didn't you just tell me?" Kíli asked. "Did he forbid it?" The sheepish look on his brother's face answered the question. The Goblin hadn't forbade it. Fíli just hadn't thought that he needed to know. And neither had Thorin. Why hadn't they told him? Did they think that he needed to be coddled?

"I didn't think so," Kíli snarled his own thoughts feeding his rage. "You didn't tell me. That was your choice. It's not my fault if I misinterpreted things because _you_ didn't give me all the information. Instead you tried to shield me from it. The fault does not lie only on me, Brother."

"Kíli," Thorin began, a warning in his voice. The boy was coming dangerously close to blaming his own words on his brother and Thorin would not allow it. They may have erred, but Kíli had chosen his words himself. Fíli had not put them into his mouth. "We did what we thought was best."

Kíli scoffed in reply. "What you thought was best nearly got you killed," Kíli snapped, still surprised that he had the gall to criticize his uncle. "What would we have done if _you'd_ died? I know that you were stalling for time. I could have helped."

"Kíli," Thorin growled but the boy was too far gone to listen to the warning.

"They weren't going to kill me quickly," Kíli insisted. "It would have bought us time. I could have endured some of it."

"No," both Thorin and Fíli snapped. The idea of seeing him in pain and hearing worse screams than they had just endured making their tones hard.

"Why not!?" Kíli demanded his brown eyes wide and his voice frantic. "I'm a member of this company as well. And as you've said _many_ times, Uncle, the quest is more important than any individual dwarf and as far as dwarves go, you and Fíli are more important than me."

"Kíli—" Fíli tried to say only to be cut off by a coarse gesture.

"I'm not done yet," Kíli ground out. "You are more important. You are the king and his heir. I'm just an extra. Everyone knows it. You didn't protect me through your actions. Do you know what you actually did by sheltering me _again_? The others _hate_ me now. Because of what I said. All of them. I saw it in their eyes. They see me as an ungrateful dwarfling, not the warrior that I am."

"Your words were your own," Thorin argued, upset by Kíli's accusations. They hit too close to home. "You cannot blame us for the consequence of them."

"No," Kíli agreed. "But I can blame you for not giving me the information I needed to avoid them! I'm not a dwarfling, Uncle. If you only intended to coddle me, you should have left me at home."

"I wanted to," Thorin replied shortly, his own words terse do to his fear that he may have cause his nephew difficulty through his actions. "Your mother insisted that I bring you if I wanted to bring Fíli. He had to come, so you had to come as well."

At his uncle's words, Kíli's eyes filled with tears. He had only feared it, but now he knew it. He had only been brought because Fíli needed to come. No one actually wanted him here. With a last, shattered look at his uncle, Kíli forced himself to his feet and ran from them, ignoring the way that his wounds throbbed and Thorin's anguished voice calling him back.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter! I figured that it was time Kíli had a bit of a say (it was just going to be internal but then a reviewer on A03 suggested that Kíli had every right to be angry so I went with it). I hope that you enjoyed it!**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :)**

**Dwíli: ****I'm glad that you're glad! And it'll be a while still :/ This chapter certainatly didn't help matters. And that was our tactic as well (we had separate rooms) but like you and your sister, it won't work for the boys. They're pretty much stuck together. And nope, no easy way for anyone in this fic. And sorry about that, though I am glad that it is so vivid for you. And don't worry, there will be more chapters, this isn't anywhere near over. And thank you so much! I'm glad that I could addict you. **

**P.S. of course I did! And that is not a problem at all. The chapters are becoming longer as well ;)**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	9. Desperation, Despair and Reassurances

"Your words were your own," Thorin argued, upset by Kíli's accusations. They hit too close to home. "You cannot blame us for the consequence of them."

"No," Kíli agreed. "But I can blame you for not giving me the information I needed to avoid them! I'm not a dwarfling, Uncle. If you only intended to coddle me, you should have left me at home."

"I wanted to," Thorin replied shortly, his own words terse do to his fear that he may have caused his nephew difficulty with the company through his actions. "Your mother insisted that I bring you if I wanted to bring Fíli. He had to come, so you had to come as well."

The moment the words left his mouth, Thorin regretted them. They had come out much more harshly than he had meant them to due to his own pain. The sight of the abject hurt on Kíli's face and the pain and betrayal in his brown eyes made Thorin feel as though someone had ripped his heart from his chest. Kíli had _never _looked at him that way before, even when he had been scolded as a dwarfling. He had looked as his uncle as though Thorin had just run him through.

"Kíli, I . . ." Thorin breathed as he tried to reach for him, but his wounds made him slow and before he could get a grip on his nephew, Kíli was on his feet and running into the woods. "Kíli, wait! I . . . " Thorin tried to push himself to his feet but his injured shoulders wouldn't support his weight and he fell back to the ground. The sudden movements caused his wounds to throb and he could feel that some of them had reopened because of his exertions.

"Fíli, help me," Thorin said sharply, panic in his eyes as he saw Kíli disappear into the forest. He knew that they needed to stop him, Kíli was upset and injured and alone. They needed to stop him before he became even more injured. He couldn't understand why Fíli hadn't stopped his brother himself. But that was irrelevant at the moment. Now that he had made it to the woods, they had to retrieve Kíli before anything else happened to him. Thorin had to make this right, much like with the consequences of Kíli's words to Fíli, anything that happened to Kíli because of what Thorin had said would be his fault. Thorin couldn't live with himself if Kíli died before he could apologize. It couldn't happen. Not again.

"Let him go, Uncle," Fíli sighed placing a hand on the older dwarf's arm to stop him from trying to rise again. He didn't understand his uncle's panic. Kíli would be fine. The goblins, if any were coming, wouldn't leave their mountains until nightfall. "You're not in any condition to be chasing him through the woods. It won't do either of you any good at the moment."

"Neither is he," Thorin argued, shrugging Fíli's hand off and attempting again to get to his feet and falling back with a cry of pain as one of the cauterized wounds on his side cracked open. "We have to go after him," Thorin said desperately, looking into Fíli's hard blue eyes, and wondering where the coolness had come from. If it had come from Kíli's harsh words, was that same coldness what Thorin could expect from his youngest nephew when he did return? The prospect of it made Thorin's chest hurt. He couldn't bear it if Kíli, his sweet little nephew, grew to hate him for his own words.

"I shouldn't have said that," Thorin said desperately, trying to convince Fíli to help him once more,  
"not like that. I _need_ him to understand. It wasn't because I didn't want him here that I tried to leave him at home."

"Uncle," Fíli said gently, placing his hand on his Uncle's arm again, his eyes sad at the fact that Thorin, who had always been so strong and so sure of himself, was unable to even get himself off the ground or to even attempt to mask his desperation. "Let him have a bit to cool off. This was a difficult day for us all and . . . give him some time. He'll come back." With a sigh, Thorin settled back on his makeshift bed. As little as he wanted to admit it, he couldn't do anything without Fíli's help and he couldn't compel his nephew to do it and even if he _did_ get to his feet, he wasn't sure that he could ever catch Kíli. He closed his eyes with a growl of frustration. He hated feeling helpless.

"I'm sorry," Fili said, stroking the bruised side of Thorin's face gently. He still couldn't believe that he could have ever put a bruise on his uncle's face. He knew that his apology, just like Kíli's, was insufficient for the harm that he had caused, but he had to try. "I . . ."

"Don't apologize," Thorin said, looking up at Fíli with a sad, tired smile. "None of this was your fault. I don't need or want your apology. This _was_ _not_ your fault."

"But, Uncle," Fíli sobbed, his head in his hands, "I did this. I'm the reason that you couldn't go after Kíli. I'm the one who . . . it's my fault that you . . . I can still feel it. The feeling of your skin parting under the knife in my hand, shedding your blood. I don't . . . I can't . . . I don't think that I can ever forgive myself, Uncle," Fíli said looking up at Thorin with tears pouring down his cheeks.

"I can't ever forget what I did," Fíli whispered his voice so broken that the words were almost inaudible.

"Then don't," Thorin replied, locking his eyes with his nephew's. "If you can't forget it, then remember it. But don't just remember the action. Remember _why_ you did it. Let that motivation give you the strength to endure the memory. And there is no need for you to forgive yourself. You did nothing wrong. You did what you had to do, what _I asked_ you to do. You followed orders. If you have to hate someone for what happened, hate the Goblin who put you in that position or hate me for forcing you to remain in it."

"But you weren't responsible for it either," Fíli argued before he realized that actually it had been Thorin's fault. If his Uncle would have just told the Goblin King why they were there then none of them would have been tortured. He would never have been put in that position in the first place. It could all be traced back to his uncle.

Thorin flinched internally as he saw Fíli's eyes harden as he put the pieces together and cursed himself again. It seemed that no matter what he said to his nephews it came out wrong. Why had he pointed that out? Fíli might not have ever seen it if he hadn't have said that.

"Why?" Fíli asked suddenly, his voice as cold as his eyes. "Why didn't you just tell him _something_? It didn't have to be the truth. Why couldn't you have just told him that we were going to visit Dáin or something? Anything?!"

"I didn't want to lie," Thorin answered honestly. "Not even to a goblin. I may not have much left in this world but I still have my word. I couldn't bring myself to lose that as well."

"But you did lie to the Goblin!" Fíli said, seizing on the shortcomings of his uncle so that he didn't have to look at his own. He knew that it was weak to do so, but his only other option was to examine his own actions and he wasn't ready for that just yet. "When he asked what you said to Kíli, you lied to him."

"There was a good reason for that, and it was only a small lie," Thorin explained. "I couldn't tell him what I had actually said to Kíli, it would have only put him in more danger. I couldn't very well _tell_ the Goblin that I didn't want to see Kíli harmed, could I?"

"And how was that less of a lie than telling him that we were traveling to visit Dáin would have been?" Fíli demanded.

"Fíli," Thorin sighed, closing his eyes wearily. He didn't feel up to this conversation at the moment and it was clear that Fíli would not let it go until he was satisfied. He always had been a tenacious thing, even as a child. Generally it was an admirable trait, but when all Thorin wanted to do was sleep, it was not.

"It wouldn't have mattered, lad," Thorin sighed trying to justify his actions so that Fíli would leave him in peace for a moment. He wanted to forget about what had happened under the mountains, not have his heir say the exact things that he had tormented himself with, no matter how correct they were.

"He wouldn't have let us go, even had I have answered his question," Thorin continued, knowing that it was a weak excuse even as it left his lips. He also knew that it was most likely true as well. The Goblin would not have freed them to continue on their merry way no matter what explanation he offered for them being in the Misty Mountains.

"How do you know?" Fíli demanded, giving voice to the nagging part of Thorin's own mind that had questioned his decision to remain silent since he had made it. "He might have. But we'll never know because _you_ didn't try. We might have been able to escape without any of this. I wouldn't have had to hurt you and Kíli . . . he wouldn't have . . . " Fili couldn't bring himself to tell his uncle how deeply Kíli's words had wounded him. But it turned out that he didn't need to.

"He wouldn't have broken your heart," Thorin finished for him a small, sad smile on his face again. "Don't look so surprised. Did you forget that I used to have a younger brother as well? Frerin and I were once like you and Kíli. We were inseparable. If you saw one of us, the other wouldn't be far behind and if you _couldn't_ see the other, it was time to be nervous because it meant that one of us was up to something and that the other was involved as well. You look like him, you know? Sometimes . . ." Thorin trailed off, unable to tell Fíli that sometimes just looking at his blonde nephew made his heart ache with longing for his brother. Fíli didn't need to carry that burden; it was for Thorin alone.

"Anyway," the King continued, clearing his throat to choke back the tears that were threatening to rise, "I know that what Kíli said hurt you. But . . . trust me; you don't want to let this come between you. Life is too short to let harsh words said in pain and during a time of stress come between you."

He may have been speaking of Fíli and Kíli but in his mind he was replaying the last words he had exchanged with his brother. The last thing that he had said to Frerin had been harsh, unnecessarily so. They had fought over something _foolish_. Thorin couldn't even remember what they had fought over, but he could still remember the look of pain in his brother's brown eyes and the quaver in his voice as he replied to Thorin's words:

"_You think you're so much better than me because you are the first born,"_ _Frerin had said. "But you're nothing but a fool, Thorin. I can't believe that I used to look up to you. I'm ashamed of you. I can't believe that we are actually brothers. I want nothing more to do with you. " When he had finished speaking, Frerin had stormed out of Thorin's tent, not even glancing over his shoulder as he walked into the darkness._

"_I'm not sure that we are!" Thorin had yelled at his brother's retreating form, his anger and pain at the words causing him to lash out. "No brother of mine could be such a coward! I'm glad that you are done with me because I never want to see you again!" _

Those had been the last words that they had exchanged. The next morning had been the beginning of the Battle of Azanulbizar. Frerin hadn't survived. Not even long enough for them to make their peace. He had already been dead when Thorin had found his mutilated body on the battlefield and the last thing that Thorin had said to his little brother had been cruel. He didn't want things to end that way for his nephews. Neither of them needed to carry that pain for the rest of their lives.

"But, Uncle," Fíli asked, breaking Thorin out of his depressing musings. "What he said . . ."

"I heard him," Thorin said. "I heard what he said to you." The words had twisted the knife in the wound that had never healed in Thorin's heart—so close were they to the words that Frerin had spoken to him—he would have never predicted that Kíli would say them to Fíli. Part of his anger at the Goblin had come from the fact that he _knew_ what hearing those words felt like. And the Goblin had pressed until Fíli was forced to hear them.

Thorin tried to fight down his own pain, Fíli needed him. "He may have said them," Thorin said quietly, thinking of how he had felt after he calmed from his fight with his brother. He had wanted to apologize, but his pride had stopped him. "But I can promise you that he regrets them. And you know as well as I do that he didn't mean them, even at the time."

"He sounded like he meant them," Fíli muttered darkly. "And they _hurt_, Uncle. More so because they were true. No self-respecting dwarf, Heir of Durin or not, would do what I did today. None of them would cut into their fa-uncle to save their brother. I was weak."

"No," Thorin argued. He hadn't missed Fíli's slip. He had always known that was how the boys saw him, even if they had never spoken of it. He and Dís had raised them as a couple, both providing whatever they needed—be it comfort, food, or even discipline—and he saw them more as sons than nephews, even if they weren't actually _his._ He still remembered the confusion in Kíli's eyes the first time that he had heard Gimli call Glóin "father" rather than "uncle." His young mind couldn't understand how two people that were serving the same function could bear different titles.

"Talk with the others if you don't believe me," Thorin promised. "Every dwarf here would have made the same choice in your position. I swear it." Rather than speak, Fíli offered him a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I hope you're right, Uncle," Fíli whispered, his blue eyes drifting tiredly closed. There had been too much stress, too much sadness, in the past day and as the adrenaline faded from his veins, weariness was beginning to take its place.

"Come, lad," Thorin said quietly, scooting sideways with a pained grunt to make room for Fíli on the pallet. "Rest." Fíli looked at his Uncle warily, worried about aggravating his wounds, before he lay down beside him.

"It will all work out, Fíli," Thorin promised, even though it wasn't a promise that he could actually make. "It will all work out." Fíli said nothing, but his unbound hand reached over and tangled in his uncle's dark hair as he had often done as a child when he had awoken from a nightmare, his hand resting against Thorin's neck and the gentle pulse of life there soothing his raw nerves. Slowly the eldest son of Dís drifted off to sleep, his uncle's ragged breathing in his ears and bitter tears of remorse in his eyes.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Kíli wasn't sure how far he had run when the pain in his back forced him to stop but he knew that it was not nearly far enough. He could run forever and it wouldn't be far enough. His uncle's words continued to ring in his ears. _"Your mother insisted that I bring you if I wanted to bring Fíli. He had to come, so you had to come as well." _To have his own fears confirmed from Thorin's own lips, and for his uncle's tone to be so cold. He hadn't known that words could cause such a real physical _ache_. His chest felt as though someone had grabbed his heart and was squeezing it. It hurt.

He fell to his knees, sobs rising up his throat. He was worthless. His uncle didn't want him. Thorin was the one person he looked up to and couldn't bear to disappoint and he didn't _want_ him. He saw Kíli as a burden, necessary baggage to allow him to bring the brother that he wanted. More than anything that had happened that day, this crushed Kíli. He wished vehemently that his mother hadn't have insisted that he come. Being left at home couldn't have hurt worse than knowing that he had only been brought because he _had_ to be. It was impossible. And if he'd been left at home, Fíli never would have . . . he wouldn't have said what he did to his brother. It would have been better for everyone if he hadn't have come.

He laid there for a time, wallowing in self-pity and anguish, crying out his frustration and pain. He knew that he was not behaving in a way that was befitting a member of the line of Durin but he didn't care. Thorin had as good as said that Kíli was an extra. The rest of the company thought that he was a failure. He had even managed to disappoint Balin! Even if every single one of them walked in on him crying in the forest like a babe he didn't see where he could damage his reputation any further. Even so, he jumped when he heard a voice.

"He didn't mean it, you know?" Gandalf said, looking down at the distraught dwarf with soft, sad eyes. "Your uncle, he didn't mean what he said."

"He meant it," Kíli replied with a bitter laugh. "You don't know my uncle very well if you think that. He never says anything that he doesn't mean."

"Yes, he does," Gandalf sighed. "He tried to follow you." Kíli looked away from the wizard; he couldn't stand to see the pity there. "He regrets his words."

"No," Kíli whispered. "He only regrets that they're true. They've always been true. I've always known it, even if I tried to pretend that I didn't. I'm only an extra to him. He has Fíli. He doesn't need me."

"That is not true," Gandalf said gently, kneeling beside the upset dwarf and placing one of his hands on Kíli's. "Even I know that is not true. I have not spent much time with you and your family, but in the time that I have, I have seen that he loves you."

"Not as much as he does Fíli," Kíli argued stubbornly refusing to admit that Gandalf was correct. "He didn't even try to see my side. He just took Fíli's. Just like he always does. He loves him more."

"Are you sure that's why he sided with Fíli this time?" Gandalf asked, looking older than before as if he knew something about Thorin that Kíli didn't—which he did. "Is it possible that he had another reason for it? I may not have seen what happened in Goblin Town, but I did hear some of what was said between you and your brother and the others after we escaped. And from what I heard, what Thorin did . . . I would almost argue that his actions showed that he loves you _more_ than he loves Fíli."

"How do you figure that?" Kíli asked, his expression one of speculation and his eyes showing his confusion. He couldn't see where Gandalf had gotten _that_ idea from. Thorin had been so cold to him since they had escaped. Kíli had heard the kind words that Thorin had said to Fíli, and their uncle's first words for _him_ were words of condemnation. That hardly showed that he loved him more than Fíli.

"To protect you, he nearly destroyed your brother. And he may have accomplished it," Gandalf said levelly, his tone and eyes hard. "I saw Fíli's eyes when I saved the lot of you. He is broken, Kíli. He may give the appearance of being whole, but inside . . . when I pulled him to his feet, he was prepared to die. He thought I was going to kill him and he welcomed death."

"No," Kíli breathed, his eyes going wide in panic. He couldn't lose Fíli. His brother couldn't die. Gandalf was wrong. There was no way that Fíli would welcome death. It was impossible.

"Yes," Gandalf said gently but firmly, the twinkle gone from his blue eyes. "What your brother did to keep you safe destroyed him. And Thorin knew what it was doing to him but still urged him on, for _you._ You can doubt many things in this world, Kíli, my lad, but you can never doubt the love that Thorin Oakenshield has for you."

"But Fíli," Kíli demanded, his anger evaporating in his concern for his brother, "He'll be alright, won't he?"

"That I cannot tell you," Gandalf replied with a shake of his head. "All I know for certain is that he has suffered a grave wound. I cannot say if he will ever recover." At Gandalf's words, Kíli felt his heart break again. It hadn't been Thorin that destroyed Fíli; it had been Kíli.

"You're wrong," Kíli said looking at the wizard with tears in his eyes once more as he realized just how deeply he had hurt his brother. Gandalf raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "It wasn't Thorin that destroyed Fíli. It was me. I told him . . . I said that . . . I said that no brother of mine could do what he had done. I disowned him, after he . . . I didn't ask them to do that for me," Kíli argued. "I didn't want either of them to get hurt for my sake."

"No," Gandalf agreed with a sad smile. "You didn't ask it. And that's what makes it all the more special that they did it." Kíli grimaced at his words and Gandalf explained. "Family is a precious thing, my dear Kíli. I know that you are angry with Fíli and Thorin at the moment, but put yourself in their places—either one, I don't care which. What would you have done, if you could have spared them pain?"

"I would have done what I had to," Kíli answered harshly. "Even if it meant enduring pain. I would gladly have traded places with Uncle just so that I didn't have to watch him go through it. It hurt, Gandalf. To have to sit there and _watch_ and not be able to do _anything_. I hated it."

"They would have felt the same way if you had switched places with Thorin. Would you have wished that pain on them?" Gandalf asked, but didn't wait for Kíli to answer him. He had no need to, the horror in the young dwarf's eyes was answer enough. He wouldn't have and hadn't even thought of it that way.

"What if it meant giving pain to another?" Gandalf continued. "What would you have done if the Great Goblin had threatened Fíli's life?"

"Anything," Kíli breathed. "I would have done whatever he asked of me. But that's not why I was upset, Gandalf. They didn't tell me. They didn't think that I needed to know."

"Didn't they?" Gandalf asked. Kíli sorted through his memories of the ordeal and his heart sank as he realized that, in a way, his uncle had tried to tell him. But how had Gandalf known?

"You were there!" Kíli snapped rounding on the wizard, murder burning in his brown eyes at the thought that the wizard had stood by while his uncle was tortured and his brother was broken. "You were there! That's how you know all of this!"

"Yes," Gandalf snapped, sarcasm dripping from the words and his eyebrows and beard bristling threateningly. "I was there. I was standing in the shadows watching the show and biding my time to swoop in and rescue you lot in the most dramatic fashion I could manage."

"I'm sorry," Kíli replied quietly, suitably cowed by the wizard's sarcasm. "It sounds truly foolish when you say it that way. I apologize." Rather than smite him where he sat, Gandalf laughed.

"My dear dwarf," the wizard said, just stopping himself from clapping Kíli on the back in his random show of joviality, "I must say that _that _was the most sincere apology I have ever received from a dwarf, let alone one of the line of Durin."

Rather than be cheered by his words, Kíli felt them settle into his stomach like a stone. It only served as a reminder to him just how differently he behaved as opposed to the behavior that was expected of him.

**ooOO88Oooo**

**There we are all! A new chapter! And may I say that I was ASTOUNDED at the response to the last one! You guys ROCK!**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add this story to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :)**

**Lisa****: Thank you! I'm glad that you loved it! and he didn't lose near the respect that he thinks he did. He's hurting at the moment and not seeing things clearly. They don't actually hate him. and they rank right up there for me. Not necessarily my favorites, but I am rather fond of them (even if I have a funny way of showing it)**

**Dwíli:**** I know it was brutal but I swear that he didn't mean it quite like it came out. He and Kíli will eventually get that cleared up. And I'm not even sure that I can clean all of this up, but I will do my best :) And that wasn't such a bad sentence (makes more sense than some of the one's I've come up with . . . ) And I don't mind your mistakes at all :) And I can ALWAYS make things worse. . . I try not to but sometime it just happens . . . but at least things are starting to look up—a bit—after this one :/**

**Guest: ****Thank you so much! And I'm sorry that it wasn't particularly soon but hope that it was worth the wait!**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	10. Honest Discussions and Harsh Truths

"Come," Gandalf said after some time had passed, "I am willing to bet that there will be food at camp by now. I would also venture that you could use a good meal after everything you have been through." He stood and offered a hand to the injured heir of Durin to help him to his feet, halfway curious if Kíli would take the offer or struggle to his feet alone in an attempt to show his strength.

"Why?" the young dwarf asked suddenly, his voice little more than a broken whisper and his brown eyes filled with despair as he looked up at the wizard.

"Why should you be hungry?" Gandalf asked in confusion. "My dear dwarf, even _dwarves_ have to eat and it has been more than a day since your last meal."

"No," Kíli said, shaking his head sadly. "Why are you being kind to me? I'm useless. Even if Uncle _does_ love me, he shouldn't. I can't do _anything_ that I'm supposed to. I can't withstand pain, I couldn't even see that they were they were doing for me. Mahal! I can't even show the pride due to a dwarf, let alone an heir of Durin." He offered Gandalf a sad smile of apology for saying that he shouldn't have apologized to the wizard—not realizing the irony of apologizing for saying that he shouldn't have apologized (which caused Gandalf to have to hide a smile in his beard).

"I don't deserve your kindness," Kíli sighed looking down at his hands. "The others are right in how they've started treating me. The only think I'm good at is making mistakes. They don't need me."

"Kíli," Gandalf said, his voice gentle as he lifted the young dwarf's chin to look into his eyes. "I do not know what the others have said or done to you, but they are not correct to have behaved in such a way. And even if they were, it is no reason for you to allow them to be unkind to you and believe that it is what you are due. We are all due many things, and many in this world never receive what they are due. Sadly this is often the good things they are due. Others receive much that they do not deserve and, regrettably, most of this excess is cruel.

"Your uncle, for example: does he deserve all the loss he has experienced? All the pain? No, but he has received it anyway. We should not seek to cause others any more pain than we must because chances are that they have already received more pain that they are due in this world. Even if all that you just said of yourself was true, which I do not believe it is, you would _still_ be deserving of my kindness.

"Now, come," Gandalf said, standing once more and reoffering his hand. "The others will wonder where you have gotten to." Kíli didn't agree with Gandalf, especially about the others worrying about him, but this time he allowed the wizard to pull him to his feet and lead him back to camp.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Kíli was wrong. The first thing that the others noticed when they returned to camp was that while Thorin and Fíli were accounted for, he was missing. It worried them and they briefly debated delaying the meal even farther to send out a search party to locate him—unsure if it would upset Thorin more that they had given the lad space or slowed the expedition even more ensuring that he was safe—until they noticed that the wizard was missing as well. They could only hope that Kíli was with him and would return shortly. There were too many other things that needed to be taken care of before they could leave to search the woods blindly for Kíli when he most likely had no desire to be found. They eventually decided that if he had not returned by the time the meal was cooked, they would begin the search, whether he wanted to be found or not.

A manhunt turned out to be unnecessary. Just as Bombur began plating up food, Kíli and Gandalf returned from the woods, much to the relief of the others. None of them had wanted to be the one to explain to Thorin that they had lost his nephew. More than one offered him a small smile in welcome which Kíli didn't return as he looked at them nervously—reminding them more of a skittish animal than the lighthearted prince that had entered the mountains the day before—before his eyes landed on his brother and Uncle and his face filled with a look of longing so intense that it pained them to see it. So they looked away from the pain in his young face and focused instead on their food.

Kíli didn't realize _why_ they looked away from him but he didn't worry about it too much. His only thoughts were for his family. Thorin and Fíli were both asleep when Kíli and Gandalf returned to camp, their contrasting hair twined together—gold and black—and Fíli was carefully curled as close to his uncle as he could get, seeking comfort. Kíli walked around the edge of camp until he was standing beside them, not wanting to walk right through the middle and endure all the condemning gazes that he knew would be directed at him. After all, they couldn't even stand to look at him. He didn't figure that they wanted his company.

He knew that his uncle and brother probably wanted nothing to do with him either, but he _needed_ to reassure himself that they were actually alive. He knelt next to Thorin on the side that wasn't occupied by Fíli and just looked at him. The small sounds of pain that came from his uncle as he breathed brought tears to the young heir of Durin. His uncle had been injured for his sake and he didn't even deserve it: all he had done was brought shame to them all. With gentle, tentative fingers, Kíli reached out to trace the bruises on Thorin's wrist where he had been bound.

"I'm sorry," Kíli breathed. "I'm so sorry, Uncle. You were right. I never should have come. I should have stayed at home."

"No," came the ragged reply. "I'm sorry Kíli. I was wrong. I never should have said that to you." Kíli looked up in surprise. Thorin's blue eyes were open and he was looking at his nephew with a sad, tired smile on his face. He had only been dosing—the pain he was in was enough to prevent true rest yet not enough to drive him to unconsciousness—and Kíli's gentle touch and his words had roused him.

"You weren't," Kíli sobbed shaking his head sadly looking away from the love and regret in his uncle's eyes. Thorin had done nothing wrong. He had nothing to apologize for. He had only spoken the truth. "I wasn't ready for this, Uncle. I should have stayed in Ered Luin. If I had've . . ."

"You _are _ready, Kíli," Thorin replied lifting his hand slowly and painfully to stroke along his nephew's cheek. His shoulder protested the movement, but the pain of the motion was nothing compared to the ache in his heart at the sight of his usually happy nephew so disconsolate. He had already endured worse pain at the hands of others for Kíli's sake that day and now that his nephew needed him again Thorin had no intention to deny him comfort.

"But I—"

"No," Thorin cut him off gently. "You are . . . I can't say that you didn't make a mistake, Kíli. What you said to Fíli . . . I don't know that I can explain to you how much that hurt your brother."

"You don't have to," Kíli breathed, his voice still filled with tears as he pressed his cheek into his uncle's palm, his own hand coming up to sandwich Thorin's between his cheek and his palm. He never thought that his Uncle would show him kindness again and he had no intention of passing up this opportunity.

"I've seen how much I hurt him. He hates me, Uncle," Kíli sobbed, clutching at Thorin's hand desperately. He fervently hoped that Thorin was going to tell him that he was wrong. He _needed_ to hear that he was wrong. That wasn't what happened.

"Yes," Thorin agreed, his words driving a fresh poker into Kíli's already wounded heart. "At the moment, I would agree with that." He knew that his words would hurt Kíli, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to him. Not about this. Even so, Thorin flinched at the pain in Kíli's brown eyes—the same eyes that Dís had and Frerin had shared—before his nephew looked away.

"But, Kíli," Thorin promised with a sad smile and a gentle squeeze to the cheek under his hand, "It won't last. He's hurt, but your brother loves you. I know it. You just have to remind him of why that it." Kíli said nothing so Thorin decided that he needed to continue.

"He has every right to hate both of us right now," Thorin said in such a quiet voice that Kíli almost missed it. "I pushed him too far, Kíli. I pushed both of you too far. I—"

"Did what you needed to to keep us alive," Kíli said quietly, looking at Thorin with tear-filled brown eyes that were also brimming with love and understanding. "I know that now. I understand why you did it. I'm sorry that I yelled at you. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I made that more difficult for you. For both of you."

"No, Kíli," Thorin whispered his tone begging Kíli to understand. "You did fine. You did better than many would have done in that situation, especially as untested youths. And . . ." Thorin paused with a small mirthless laugh, "you're not the only one to yell at me for how I handled the situation we were just in. It makes me think that I may have erred. I tried to treat you both like children to be protected and seasoned warriors at the same time. I was wrong and I . . . I failed you both." Kíli smiled wryly at Thorin's speech. This was most unlike his uncle. Though it did make him feel a bit better, perhaps he could help his uncle feel better as well.

"You're delirious with pain, aren't you Uncle?" the young heir or Durin asked suddenly, a parody of his usual mischievous smile on his face and a faint twinkle breaking through the sadness in his eyes.

"What makes you ask that?" Thorin replied, his confusion showing in his face even as his eyes sparkled with amusement that Kíli was teasing him. Even if it lacked the lad's usual fire, it was a small sign that he, at least, would recover from their ordeal if given time. If only Fíli would show such a sign.

"That little speech contained more words that I have heard you speak since before we left for Erebor _and_ I don't believe that I have ever heard you take fault for something like that," Kíli said with a laugh.

"I could use a good laugh, lad," Bofur said suddenly from beside them, two steaming bowls of food in his hands and Bilbo close behind him with the third. "Care to share the joke?" Thorin and Kíli exchanged a look.

"No," Kíli said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, as he gently untangled Fíli's hand from Thorin's hair before he helped Thorin to sit up so he could eat, focusing more on the conversation than the pained gasps coming from his uncle. "But I'll bet that we'd both like to hear one if you happen to have one ready."

"I don't," Bofur replied. "But Bilbo did tell me one the other day about a . . . gopher? And what he thought was a bumblebee."

"That wasn't a joke," Bilbo said shifting nervously at the prospect of telling the King and his nephew a story about his gardener being chased by a sweat-bee that he had believed to be an angry bumblebee and nearly drowning in the creek until he realized that it was less than a foot deep and stood. "It was a tale about my _gaffer_. And not appropriate at this time."

"If you would tell it," Thorin offered knowing that it was his presence that was denying Kíli the possibility of a laugh and attempting to put Bilbo more at ease, "I would enjoy hearing about your . . . gaffer, was it?" With a deep sigh, Bilbo settled himself down beside Kíli, handing the bowl he carried to the King and beginning his tale. Soon, Bilbo forgot _who_ he was telling the tale too, feeding off the laughter of Bofur and Kíli and the small smile on Thorin's face as they waited for the food to be cool enough to eat.

"Oh, Bilbo, please," Kíli begged around his fits of laughter mingled with small sobs as the movement made his bruises ache, "no more! Please, no more! It hurts to laugh."

"The tale is not done yet, Nephew," Thorin said with a small smile. Kíli's laughter warmed his heart. If Kíli would be fine everything he had endured would have been worth it. "Would you have him stop before it is over? It has been a fine tale so far and I would see how it ends."

"Then it's a shame I missed the entire thing," Fíli said suddenly sitting up, his sleep-blank expression turning hard as he watched Kíli wipe tears of mirth from his eyes as their Uncle smiled at him fondly. He felt rage bubble within him that Kíli could laugh like that when he was still aching from the broken pieces within him grinding together. How could Kíli be so happy when Fíli still felt like dying? Did his brother really care that little for him that he could laugh so freely while Fíli was in pain? And how could Thorin let him get away with it? His uncle had betrayed him again.

"Oh, Fíli!" Kíli laughed, looking at his brother, "You have to hear it! It was hilarious! You . . ." he trailed off as he saw the hatred and rage in his brother's blue eyes and his laughter died in his throat. He looked away, unable to hold Fíli's gaze any longer and began to pick sullenly at his food. He should have known better than to hope that Fíli would be fine when he woke up.

Bofur and Bilbo shifted uncomfortably at the sudden chill that had come over the group. It was clear that they wanted to be anywhere other than in the middle of a glaring contests between Thorin's heirs. Neither of them knew what to do, however as Thorin had requested that Bilbo finish the tail, he _should_ do it but it was more than inappropriate in the current atmosphere.

"It's not that funny," Bilbo said quietly, his tone subdued where it had been so bright only moments before. He felt the full force of Fíli's ire even though it wasn't directed at him. "Rather silly really." He found that he couldn't quite meet the eyes of any of the heirs of Durin at the moment.

"No," Thorin disagreed. "It was quite entertaining. You will have to finish it for us at another time. But you must be hungry. I notice that neither you nor Bofur has a bowl and there are still two by the fire. I thank you for bringing us food and apologize for keeping you from your own." Bilbo looked up at the king, his hazel eyes wide in surprise. Thorin had just given him a way to extract himself from the situation and he more than intended to take it.

"I am," Bilbo agreed. "Feels like days since I last ate. I will be more than happy to finish it for you later. All you need to do is ask." Thorin nodded and watched with a jealous sigh as both Bilbo and Bofur beat a hasty retreat from the tension surrounding the royal family. The king looked between his nephews, Kíli who wouldn't look at his brother and Fíli who was glaring at his brother in a way that made Thorin immensely glad that looks could not kill. Righteous though Fíli's anger was, Thorin feared it and what might come of it. He made a note that he would have to ask Dwalin to keep an eye on the brothers for him until he was able to do it himself. That thought alone disturbed him more that the tortures he had undergone.

Never would he have believed it. And if anyone had ever told him that he would fear one of his nephews would harm the other he would have said that they had been too far into the cups . . . perhaps even into the keg itself. The two of them had loved each other unconditionally since Kíli had been born and had been so evenly matched once they were both fully grown that even if they did occasionally brawl he knew that no grievous harm would come from it. But now, Fíli was so changed, hurt and broken and Kíli so filled with guilt that he was unsure what they would do. One wrong word from Kíli might be all it took for Fíli to snap (as the bruises that Thorin was just noticing on Kíli's upper arms attested to) and he wasn't sure that Kíli had it within him at the moment to resist the punishment that his brother would dish out in such a rage. He feared for them both if it came to that.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter. Sorry it took me a bit, this one was very hard for me to get out for some reason, though I do have some big plans coming up :) I hope that you enjoyed it!**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add this story to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :)**

**Dwíli:**** I'm glad that you are still enjoying it! And Kíli's a very forgiving thing. Thorin said that he was sorry, and Kíli accepted it. He's still got MAJOR self-esteem issues and it will pop back up, but he and Thorin are ok . . . for now. And that he does! Thorin gets it and will TRY to help them work through it, though it's possible that he will only make it worse. .. his advice to Kíli in this one may just backfire. I'm not sure that showering Fíli with love will fix this and may even bring about the conflict that Thorin fears. And actually, nope. You only make a few mistakes and they are little things that aren't actually ****wrong**** so much as strange. And I'm glad that you think so. . . I'm afraid that this last chapter may have been crap. It feels like it was . . . and I took it as the content being appalling (family feuds/torture/etc.) don't worry, I was not in the least bit offended :)**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	11. Baseless Accusations' Rage & a Promise

After the dishes were washed it could be delayed no longer: the company _had_ to move. It wasn't something than any of them were looking forward to but the prospect of sitting on the doorstep of Goblin Town after nightfall and risking being close enough for the goblins to easily mount an attack was an idea that they liked even less than the idea of trying to move their wounded King. But even if it couldn't be delayed, there were still complications to sort out before they could move. One of these complications was how to redistribute the gear. While they were glad that they had managed to escape with all of their packs—even if they _had_ lost the ponies and most of the food—they provided a difficulty to an already difficult situation.

Dwarves, while durable and strong, were not completely tireless. None of them save for Thorin had had any kind of sleep and they were begging to feel it. Add to their weariness the fact that most of their own packs had been nearly filled to the point that they were too much, and suddenly the fact that all of the gear had been saved was a burden not a boon. Neither Thorin nor Kíli were in any condition to carry packs and the gear they had carried now had to be divided between the others.

Though Thorin had remained silent on the matter, it was clear that he was displeased that he had to be coddled in such a way. However, he knew that they were right. There was no way that he could carry a pack. He wasn't entirely sure that he could move himself, let alone bear the weight of a pack on his wounded shoulders and even if he could . . . if he was burdened by a pack he would only slow them more and put them at even more risk. It was this knowledge that led to his silence. He felt no need to draw further attention to his own weaknesses.

Kíli, however, had no such qualms. He protested vehemently that he was perfectly capable of carrying his pack and refused to hear any arguments against his ability to do so. He argued that he had carried it from Goblin Town and that he would carry it from there. When it was clear that he would not see reason, Dwalin had resorted to other—more physical—means to convince the boy of his inability. All it took was a barely-there touch to his back from the warrior to drive the young heir to his knees from pain. With a look that was both smug and sad, Dwalin shook his head at Kíli. That was the end of _that_ argument but it wasn't the end of the arguments before they set out.

The next major dispute involved Thorin. With much effort—and many grimaces and foul words in both Khuzdul and the common tongue—Thorin had managed to get back into the first layer of his clothing with Balin's help. But when Balin tried to help him into the next layer . . . that was when they hit the next point of contention: his armored shirt.

The company felt that with his injuries hampering his ability to fight it would be nearly suicidal for him to walk around in naught but an undershirt. They intended to protect him with their lives, but that would be an easier task if he wasn't such an easy target. Thorin was having none of it.

He had started out, much like Kíli had, protesting the need for such protection stating that he was capable of defending himself if the need arose even with his wounds. None of them had the heart to point out that the King couldn't even get to his feet without help and if he couldn't manage that then there was no way that he could wield a sword in battle. Instead, they focused on the fact that it was as much for their benefit as his as they could better defend themselves if they weren't _quite_ as worried for him.

After this had gone on for longer than Thorin believed that it should, Thorin finally snapped. "I cannot bear it!" he said looking desperately at Balin begging his friend to understand. "Do you hear me? I _cannot_ bear it! I understand that by going without it I put not only myself but all of you in danger but I can't wear it. Even the weight of this cloth is almost too much. I can't even . . . no."

"So what should we do?" Balin asked sarcastically. He understood where Thorin was coming from but this was foolishness on his part. He understood that his friend was trying to minimize his own pain, but this would perhaps keep him alive if they were attacked.

"Should we carry perfectly good armor?" Balin finished the question. Thorin sighed and for a brief moment Balin believed that he had won the argument. But then the king looked at him once more.

"Fíli can wear it," Thorin said obstinately. As far as he was concerned it was an elegant solution. "I can't wear it. It's foolish to carry it. By your reasoning that I should since I'm injured, Kíli would actually be the next logical suggestion, but as he can't bear to be touched I doubt he could stand the weight of _that_ on his wounds. Of the royal family that leaves Fíli. And he actually _is_ the next logical choice—even above Kíli—at any rate as my heir. He should wear it." The company saw it as a brilliant solution. Even if they would prefer Thorin to be protected, Fíli _was_ the next in line if anything happened to his uncle and if Thorin couldn't wear it, Fíli should.

Thorin's nephews, on the other hand . . . neither of them liked that solution. Kíli, who was still feeling vulnerable after what he had said to his brother and done to his uncle, saw the bit about Fíli being the logical choice above him as a slight against his worth to his uncle and the fact that none of the others had protested a sign of their views on his worth as well. Fíli saw the bit out Kíli being his uncle's first suggestion as Thorin choosing Kíli's well-being over his yet again.

"No," Fíli said bitterly as Balin tried to hand the shirt to him. He looked past Balin at his uncle, his blue eyes cold as ice, "You were right. Kíli _should_ wear it. Can't let the youngest incur any risk after all. He has to be protected no matter the cost. Right, Uncle?" Thorin flinched at the ice in Fíli's tone as well as the accusation there. What he had feared was true: Fíli didn't just hate Kíli. He hated them all. Even himself.

"Fíli," the youngest began quietly, pain in his brown eyes at both the hurt he could see in his brother and that he had become a point of contention between his uncle and brother. "No, you should—"

"I wasn't talking to you," Fíli snapped, rounding on Kíli with hatred in his eyes. "No one wants your opinion so you just stay out of this!" Kíli's face crumpled at the words as if his brother had slapped him. Fíli had _never_ spoken to him like that! It nearly broke his heart to see his brother look at him like he was and to hear such angry words hurled at him. Fíli watched as tears filled his brother's eyes but couldn't bring himself to care. He was even vaguely pleased that Kíli was experiencing even a _hint_ of the pain that he had put Fíli through in the caves.

"Fíli," Thorin began trying desperately to draw his eldest's attention from his youngest. Once he did it was everything he could do to keep from flinching at the pain and anger he saw in Fíli's blue eyes. It broke his heart that his heir had been so broken.

"What, Uncle?" Fíli snarled. "Will you tell me that I'm wrong? That everything that _you_ endured, everything that _I_ endured . . . will you tell me that it wasn't for _him?_" he glared at his brother once more, fury twisting his young features until they were almost unrecognizable. "You can barely stand and I . . . and _then_ he wasn't even _**grateful**_! He _**saw**_! He saw what we did for **HIM** and he spat on it!"

"Fíli," Thorin tried again, his tone edging towards desperation as he tried to reach his nephew underneath the rage that seemed to have possessed him. It didn't work.

"TELL ME I'M WRONG, UNCLE!" the blonde dwarf demanded, his eyes wild. "Tell me that he _didn't_ behave like a selfish _dwarfling!_ You shouldn't have let Mother bully you into bringing him! He _should_ have stayed at home!"

"Fíli, that's enough!" Thorin snapped. He understood that the lad was upset, but this was neither the time nor the place to air his grievances. The company did not need to hear this argument. Kíli did not need to hear it. Thorin knew that Fíli didn't truly mean the things that he said about his brother—or he hoped so at least—but even if he did this was an argument between Thorin and Fíli and he could see how every word that left his eldest's mouth affected his youngest. With every word that Fíli yelled, Kíli curled further into himself as if trying to ward off physical blows. Yes, Thorin could understand Fíli's need to vent, but he could not allow this tirade to continue. It was only winding Fíli up more and hurting Kíli in the process. No good would come of it.

"We are _not_ having this conversation here," Thorin said in a tone that left no room for argument. "You and I will discuss this _later_, in _private_, if you still wish it once you have calmed down a bit. But even there I will _not _allow you to say that your brother should not have come. He—"

Fíli cut his uncle off with a mirthless laugh, a sound filled with incredulity and pain. "I should have known," he said quietly, tears forming in his eyes, "especially after what just happened. _Of course_ you would take his side. You've _always_ preferred him over me. Even last night."

"In case you've forgotten," Thorin replied coldly, "it was _you_ that informed _me_ that you would do whatever it took to keep him safe. Even if it meant killing me." He _had_ intended to have this discussion in private, but such an accusation could not go unanswered. He had _never_ shown preference to one boy over the other and he would not allow Fíli to claim that he had.

"I _never_ said that!" Fíli yelled. "I _never_ said that I would kill you. That was _you_! You were the one that told me that if they asked me to pick that I should choose Kíli. And I did, Uncle. I chose his life over your health and my sanity. I chose Kíli, just as _you_ ordered me to." Thorin flinched at the quiet pain there at the end of his speech. He knew that doing what he had needed to had hurt Fíli, but he didn't realize _that_ was what had broken him. He had thought that it was Kíli's words that had destroyed his blonde nephew.

"You may not have said it," Thorin whispered, attempting to remind Fíli just how much he had loved his brother just a day before and give him something to cling to as the guilt of his actions ate at him, "but you would have done it even had I not have said it." At Thorin's words, Fíli's face crumpled and the fury fell away before he looked away from the understanding in his uncle's blue eyes. It was true. He would have. He would have taken his uncle's life to save his brother and Kíli hadn't cared. He felt anger begin to resurface with that last thought.

"Fíli," Thorin tried again, reaching for his nephew. He had seen the anger leave his nephew and thought that he had a chance to fix the situation between his nephews. "Fíli, you can't blame Kíli for what happened. You—"

"So what, Uncle?" Fíli demanded, his temper rising once more at the _idea_ that his Uncle might think that he was to blame for Thorin's injuries. This time, rather than direct itself at Thorin for his favoritism or his stubbornness in refusing to answer the Goblin King's question, it turned on Kíli. The entire situation could be blamed on him. If he would have just kept his fool mouth shut, the Goblin King would never have realized that he and Thorin were related and none of this would have happened. Everything that Fíli had been forced to do could be traced back to Kíli and now Thorin was blaming _him_ for it!

"SO WHAT!?" he screamed, a feral sound filled with pain and frustration and anguish. "It's MY fault? 'My actions were my own' just like Kíli's words? No, Uncle, this is all HIS fault! And deep down, you know it." With one final cold glare at Kíli—who was looking at his brother as though Fíli had just run him through with a sword—the eldest heir of Thorin stalked off down the path leaving a flabbergasted company in his wake.

Thorin stood there for a moment in shock at what had just happened before he turned to the group. "What are you waiting for?" he asked, his voice quiet and filled with emotional pain. "Fíli has led the way. Move out." With a few pitying glances at Thorin and a couple of gentle pats to Kíli's bowed head, they left, following the rapidly moving blonde head of Fíli.

"Dwalin, a word?" Thorin called, halting the large dwarf and bring him back to his side. "I'm not sure how to ask this," Thorin began slowly, his eyes never leaving the distraught form of Kíli who was now weeping into Bilbo's shoulder. Then with a sigh they flicked in the direction that Fíli had gone before they came back to rest on Dwalin.

"I never thought I'd need to ask this, but—"

"I'll keep an eye on him," Dwalin promised in a whisper. "Fíli'll get over this eventually and until he does I'll make sure that he doesn't hurt _anyone_. Poor lad doesn't need anything else to beat himself up over."

Thorin nodded his thanks and waited until Dwalin broke into a jog to catch up with the irate blonde before he turned and walked slowly to where Kíli, Bilbo and Bofur were.

"Kíli," Thorin said quietly, trying to keep the pain that moving caused his wounds out of his voice to keep from upsetting his nephew further. When the lad didn't reply, he tried again. "Kíli, we need to get moving. I don't' know about you, but I will not be going anywhere quickly today. If we want to cover any ground before nightfall we need to begin." Thorin flinched as Kíli suddenly released Bilbo and threw himself into his uncle's arms, his fingers unintentionally digging into the wounds on Thorin's back as he clung to his uncle and wept. Thorin shifted slightly to try to move Kíli's head from one of his more painful wounds before tangling his hand in his nephew's chestnut hair and leaning his cheek against the top of Kíli's head.

"Uncle," Kíli sobbed. "He . . . He. . . " Even though Thorin wasn't quite sure what his nephew wanted to say, he gave the only answer that he could.

"I know, Kíli. I know."

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter of this one :) I hope that you enjoyed it :)**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed. Y'all really make my day!**

**shanynde:**** Thank you! I hope that you enjoy the rest of the story!**

**Dwíli: ****Thank you! I'm glad that you didn't think that it was crap :) And it is so hard to keep making them fight, I just want everyone to kiss (metaphorically of course as this WILL NOT be a Durincest) and make up. But there IS a forgiving scene written, I swear it! And by that I mean just that. They have much more to go through before they are fixed and things may get nasty before they are fine (I'm not sure as it's not written yet) and I agree with you! Both positive and negative criticism is important (though I have found that I am much harder on myself than you lot are on me) and publishing is the hardest thing to do but it is so rewarding :) You really should give it a go :) And don't you love it when things do things without your permission ;) And thank you for your kind words :) don't worry, I do intend to continue writing :)**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	12. Rage, Foolishness and Bloodshed

Before Kíli had calmed completely, Thorin had been forced to make him move, though it broke his heart anew to do so. His brother, while not running, was setting a very brusque pace and Thorin was already beginning to wonder if they would ever catch up to them. The King had been right about the traveling pace that he was able to accomplish, he had seen _dwarflings_ crawl faster than he could walk, but it couldn't be helped. The ground was uneven with shallow—and not-so-shallow—drop-offs hidden within the layers of forest debris. He had taken to feeling each step carefully with his foot before he took it. The extra motion hurt, but not as much as the alternative.

It was a lesson he had learned the hard way. He had been walking when suddenly the layer of leaves beneath his feet gave way and he fell. It was only a short distance—the leaves coming up to his calves—but the shock of even so little a drop had caused a startled cry of pain to rise up his throat and for Kíli, who was sticking abnormally close to his uncle in the absence of his brother—and Bilbo to both place a hand on his arm and look up at him with sad eyes. While he was warmed by the fact that they cared, he hated that he deserved their pity.

That little incident had caused Bofur to begin walking a couple of steps in front of the King, not to be rude but to allow Thorin to see what was coming up ahead by watching the toymaker traverse it first. The sight of it made his heart swell with fondness. When he had been planning this mission, he had taken any volunteer that he could but he had questioned what a minner or a toymaker could do on such a quest—or a _hobbit_ for that matter. He hadn't even had a proper weapon! Now . . . now he didn't question why any of them were there. They had all proved him wrong, proved their worth. He had grown to care for them and, strangely enough, they had grown to care for him. He could see it in their concerned gazes, the way they hovered but tried to make it look as though they weren't. He now understood another thing as well.

From the beginning of the quest, Fíli and Kíli had taken to traveling with Bofur, Bilbo and whoever else might be near them at the time. When his nephews chose those two as traveling companions Thorin couldn't understand it. The brothers were his heirs, royal dwarves. They should have wanted to be at the front of the line with him and Balin and Dwalin not at the end with a toymaker and a hobbit. Now he understood. What Bilbo and Bofur lacked in lineage they more than made up for in heart. They were refreshing to be around even in this situation and he had to wonder what they would be like uninhibited by sadness and himself.

He wondered if Fíli was finding his usual group to be a refreshing. Despite his fears, Fíli had eventually slowed enough to allow his uncle and brother to catch up—though it had been clear that it _had not_ been his idea from the set of his jaw—and was now walking at the front of the column between Balin and Dwalin. If Thorin had it in him to be amused at the moment, this would have done it. He and Fíli had switched places for the moment. He wondered if the lad was finding the switch agreeable or if he was missing his brother yet. Kíli seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"You know," he was saying to Bilbo, "I _should_ walk up there by him. Maybe try to talk to him. Apologize _again_: explain that I _did_ appreciate what he did for me but that I was too upset with myself at the time to realize it. That _might_ work. You know, I will! I'll go now!"

"Um, Kíli," Bilbo said nervously, placing a gentle restraining hand on the young dwarf's arm, "I'm not going to say that you _can't_, but I . . . I'm not sure that is a good idea. He's . . . he's mighty angry. Perhaps . . . perhaps you should . . . you should give him time." Bilbo wasn't sure how to tell the dwarf that Fíli had scared him back at the camp. He had been so raw, so angry. The hobbit had spent quite a bit of time with the brothers and he had never known that Fíli was capable of such anger. He feared it. Fíli wasn't himself at the moment and he feared what would happen if Kíli pressed him.

"Nonsense!" Kíli called moving out from under Bilbo's hand. "Space isn't what he needs. He needs me to remind him why he loves me. Right, Uncle?" Thorin flinched at the hope in Kíli's brown eyes. He hated that once again he was going to have to tell his nephew the opposite of what he wanted, _needed_, to hear.

"Kíli," Thorin began and saw his nephew's face begin to crumple at his name. The king abruptly changed his mind. He couldn't cause Kíli any more pain. Not right then. He knew that it was selfish keeping the truth from him, but . . . he couldn't stand to have them _both_ angry with him.

"That may be what he needs," Thorin agreed. "But at the moment, _I_ need you to stay by me, please. You can't leave Bilbo and Bofur to deal with your cantankerous, injured uncle alone, can you?" It had the effect that he wanted: Kíli smiled, a dazzling thing, and came back to stand by his side with a laugh rather than go and confront his brother. Once he was back beside his uncle, he gently threaded his uninjured arm through Thorin's and gently touched his head to his uncle's affectionately.

"If you needed me to stay, you could have just asked," Kíli whispered. Thorin smiled fondly at the top of Kíli's dark head. Once his wounds healed, Kíli—at least—would be fine. He seemed mostly normal, at any rate, still sad, and a bit uneasy around anyone other than their current little group, but _mostly_ normal.

"I think I just did," the King replied squeezing his nephew's wrist gently before disentangling them and nodding that Kíli needed to keep walking. He did, the set of his shoulders clearly showing that the act was painful for him, but Thorin again felt pride swell within him as he noted that Kíli's face, while a bit pinched around the eyes, showed no sign of the pain he was in. _Stubborn little thing_, he thought fondly. Both of his nephews were actually stubborn little things.

At that thought he looked up to see the back of Fíli's head, just to reassure himself that his other nephew was still there, only to see that Fíli was looking at him: _glaring_ at him. Then his gaze shifted to his brother and his face filled with rage once more before he turned back to the front. He felt a groan rise up his throat. In making Kíli feel better he had only made things worse between them. Could he do _nothing_ right by his nephews?

"He'll calm down, Thorin," Bofur said gently from in front of him, looking over his shoulder at the king with gentle brown eyes. "I saw the look he just gave you and the little one. He's pissed. Honestly, I probably would be too after what _he's_ been through—not that I'm saying that there was another way that could have gone. I would _never_ dare to question your decisions in how you conduct the quest or handle your family. I—" The eyes were no longer gentle, they were panicked and he had taken to walking backwards with his hands raised in supplication as he realized that he might have just insulted his injured—and most likely tired and temperamental—King.

"It is fine, Bofur," Thorin said with a sad smile. "I took no offence. And you are right. Fíli has every right to be angry with both me and his brother. I only hope that you are also right that he will eventually forgive us. I can't bear to lose him. Either of them." Bofur felt his eyes widen in shock.

Fíli and Kíli had always insisted that their uncle wasn't nearly as cold as he pretended to be, that behind closed doors he was warm and affectionate. Bofur had never believed them. But the events of the last day seemed to have smashed the boundaries between Thorin-the-Uncle and Thorin-the-King and he had shown a softness to everyone that he had never before shown. Bofur knew that it was only a matter of time before the boundary came back up, be he couldn't help but enjoy this version of his King while it lasted. If he thought that he could get away with telling Thorin how to run his life, he would suggest that he keep this version of his personality. It would do no harm for the people to see that he was just a dwarf as well.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Fíli, on the other hand, was not the least bit happy with his uncle's latest show of affection. He felt the molten anger that had begun to cool within him rise up and threaten to drown him once more. How could they _do_ that!? Stand back there together and embrace and _laugh_ like nothing had happened? How did his uncle have a smile left in him at all after what had happened? That was Kíli's fault too. He had seen that smile on his uncle's face enough times to know that that was _Kili's_ smile, their mother's smile . . . the smile that Thorin had for him wasn't quite the same. There was pride there, yes, and love but there was also an undercurrent of reserve that wasn't there with the others. Fíli didn't understand it but to see _that_ smile directed at his brother when the last expression Thorin had had for _him_ had been one of shock and hurt . . . it didn't matter that that expression had been _his_ fault, it made him ache and the ache translated to rage. Rage that directed itself at his brother for doing things that forced him to say things like that to his uncle and cause Thorin to look at him _that_ way. Everything would have been fine if Kíli hadn't've come. Just as it was fine before he was born.

He let out a low growl and tried to speed up and distance himself from his brother and his uncle somehow feeling that physical distance could ease the ache of the emotional distance that had grown between them, but a gentle hand on his arm stopped him.

"We need to take it easy, lad," Balin said looking at him kindly. Fíli felt his heart lift. Balin understood. He wasn't angry. There was understanding rather than hurt in his eyes! Balin hadn't betrayed him, not like Kíli, not like his uncle. Balin was still with him. And then he processed Balin's words and his hope faded and was replaced once more with rage. The older dwarf, while he might have understood, was talking about _them_ and trying to get Fíli to feel bad for them.

"I know you're mad at them but . . . do you really want to leave them alone to deal with the goblins?" Balin watched as the blonde heir's blue eyes softened and thought that he might have gotten through to him and broken the cloud of rage that had settled over him but nearly as soon as it came, the softness disappeared and when Fíli opened his mouth his gaze was hard once more. Rather than listen to another tirade about his uncle and brother, Balin cut him off gently. "Don't answer that, laddie. I don't want you to have more words to regret later."

"I won't regret anything that I've said," Fíli snarled ripping his arm from Balin's grasp. "It was all true. Can _you_ tell me that I was wrong? That it _wasn't _Kíli's fault. That Uncle doesn't love Kíli more than he love me." Balin sighed. He knew that he had to answer the question or risk angering the young heir even more. He also knew that he couldn't lie, in Fíli's current mood the lad would smell a lie leagues away. That only left the truth, and he wasn't sure how Fíli would react to _that_.

"I can't," Balin said honestly. "There are aspects that you have wrong and parts that I don't think you fully understand but . . . you weren't wrong. Not entirely."

Dwalin shot his brother a sharp look. The last thing they needed was for Balin to make Fíli feel like he was justified in his rage. The lad was stubborn and if he was given even a hint of validation this would never end. He wondered what his brother was doing. You can't reason with people who are in a rage. You just have to let it blow over and _then_ reason with them. Or provoke them to a fight and then reason with them. He only hoped that Balin was about to make this worse. This needed to blow over sooner rather than later and Dwalin had promised not to let this come to blows. Fíli just needed to calm down and a rehash of his argument with Thorin was not going to help.

"What don't I understand?" Fíli demanded sharply. Balin sighed as he belatedly realized that he might have just made things worse and only hoped that he could say the right thing to talk down the enraged heir. If he was the one that drove Fíli to doing something rash he knew that Thorin would have his beard. He had made a mistake and now he had to fix it.

"Thorin doesn't love Kíli _more_ than he does you," Balin offered his voice begging the lad to understand. Balin knew why he thought that, he had seen his old friend's reservation with his blond nephew and he knew the cause of it. It was time that Fíli did too and perhaps time to have a chat with Thorin about it. Until that day, Balin hadn't realized that Fíli could tell a difference in the treatments they received from Thorin. He had never shown any sign of knowing.

"He doesn't," Balin repeated when he saw disbelief override the rage in Fíli's face. "It's just . . . what do you know about your Uncle Frenin?"

"That has _nothing_ to do with this," Fíli snapped. He knew that his uncle had died young and that Thorin had found the body. It angered him that Balin would think that he could fix this for Thorin by making him feel pity for him over the loss of his brother. Thorin had had no pity for him in the caves, after all.

"It has _everything_ to do with it, lad," Balin offered desperately. If he could just get Fíli to listen to him perhaps he could fix this before things got even worse. If Fíli _knew_ perhaps he could understand. "If you would just hear me out—"

"NO!" Fíli roared turning to grab Balin by the upper arm with his good hand as he had grabbed Kíli earlier. "I don't want to hear it! I DON'T CARE what his rationalization for it is! There is NO excuse for what he did to me! I thought you were on my side but . . . you-you . . . you're trying to JUSTIFY IT! I should have known that YOU would be on _his_ side." The last words were said in a poisonous whisper that was almost worse that the yelling had been for the betrayal they contained.

"What "sides," Fíli?" Balin asked looking at him sadly there was little of Fíli left in his blue eyes and it broke the older dwarf's heart to see what was left of the dwarfling he had watched grow from birth. "This isn't a war. We're not fighting each other. We're a company."

"We _were_. We _were_ a family once too. There _was_ trust between us once too," Fíli snarled shifting his glare to Dwalin when the warrior wrapped a hand around the wrist that was attached to the hand that was gripping Balin's arm. It wasn't enough pressure to hurt the boy but it was enough to get his attention even through his blind rage.

"Lad," Dwalin said, his tone firm and leaving no room for disagreement, "you need to let go." The snarl that Fíli let out at his words was _almost_ feral enough to cause Dwalin to remove his hands from the boy and give him a little space but with Balin in danger the warrior wasn't about to back down from a dwarfling. _Especially_ an enraged dwarfling with a broken hand. Even as his rage made him stronger, it also clouded his judgment Dwalin knew that he could subdue him if he had to. No matter how much it would hurt the warrior to do so.

"That won't drive me off," Dwalin snarled back meeting his aggression with aggression to try to snap some sense into him. It was clear that meeting him with reason wasn't working, just as he'd known it wouldn't. "I've faced much more intimidating things than _you_. Now let him go." With that Fíli whirled on him. There was no sanity in his eyes but there was hurt and betrayal there. Even so, Fíli released Balin's arm roughly and turned to face Dwalin fully before wrenching his wrist from the larger dwarf's grasp.

"What if I hadn't done it?" Fíli demanded, tears in his voice. "What if I had refused? Would you have raised a hand to me? TELL ME! Would you have struck me?" Dwalin looked away from the pain there. He couldn't stand it. But he also couldn't tell the boy what he wanted to hear. If he had to render him unconscious to protect another from him, Dwalin would do it.

"I'm not answering that lad," Dwalin replied eventually still not looking at the livid blonde dwarf before him. "But we need to get moving again. We're holding up the group." Fíli looked over, not missing the way Ori flinched as his gaze moved over him, and realized that they had stopped; wary of passing him for fear that he would lash out at them instead. They were all against him. They were afraid of him. Rather than make him realize that he was being unreasonable, that fed into his rage as well. If they all wanted to side with his uncle and Kíli that was fine with him. He didn't need them anyway. With a final disdainful glance over his shoulder at the company he started walking once more.

Dwalin stood there awkwardly for a moment, his hand hovering as he tried to decide if he wanted to touch his brother or give him some space. Balin decided it for him, placing a hand on his.

"I'm fine, Brother," Balin said quietly. "Confused and . . ." he paused shaking his head sadly before he continued "but I'm fine. I promise." Dwalin wasn't sure that he believed him, but he didn't want to argue with Balin. With a deep sigh the warrior patted his brother's hand before turning to shadow the enraged blonde. He had expected that he would be stopping Fíli from attacking Kíli, but the fact that he had turned on _Balin_ made Dwalin realize the magnitude of what he had agreed to. He only hoped for all their sakes that he was up to the task. The thought crossed his mind that it might be a good idea to disarm the lad before he rejected it. Fíli was angry but not angry enough to draw a weapon on a member of the company.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The rest of the day's march following that flare of temper passed in a subdued and tense silence. None of them knew what to say. After Fíli's last outburst Kíli was inconsolable once more. He didn't weep this time, but he did continually shoot longing glances at his brother. It was clear to everyone that he desperatly wanted to go and _try_ to talk to Fíli and equally as clear to them that this was _not_ a good plan. Thankfully, every time that he tried Thorin, Bofur or Bilbo found some urgent thing that they needed him for that only he was capable of.

After about the third time that this happened Kíli realized that they were trying to keep him separated from his brother. He didn't understand it. Fíli was angry, yes, but there was no reason that they needed to be separated. They had had arguments before and had always talked them out in the past. This time would be no different. He _knew_ that if he could just _talk_ to Fíli they could work this out. He couldn't understand why the others were trying to prevent it. Did they _want_ him and Fíli to keep fighting? He silently promised himself that he _would_ find a way to talk to Fíli before the night was out, no matter _what_ it took.

He found his opportunity when they stopped to make camp. Thorin, exhausted by the exertions of the day, had sank to the ground as soon as he was able and was leaning against a tree with his eyes closed, breathing deeply through his nose, his hand twitching slightly as he fought to control his moans of pain. Bilbo had turned to helping Bombur to prepare dinner while Bofur was seeing to business of a _personal_ nature in the forest. Fíli had left camp to the north and no one was left to stop Kíli from following him. With a final glance at his uncle, Kíli began walking in the direction that Fíli had gone.

"Where are you off to?" Thorin asked without opening his eyes. Kíli nearly flinched at the tone before he remembered that he wasn't actually doing anything wrong. He was simply leaving camp for a moment to speak with his brother. There was nothing wrong with that.

"I need to visit the woods," Kíli replied casually, a crooked half-smile on his face. "I think I can go without an escort, Uncle." Thorin made an uncomfortable sound in his throat but said nothing more as Kíli walked out of camp. Thorin did open his eyes to look at Kíli's retreating back. While he _wanted_ to send someone with him he knew that Kíli was right. The boy was more than old enough to relieve himself in the woods without an escort. With a resigned sigh he leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes hoping to catch a few precious moments of sleep while exhaustion rode him more heavily than pain.

He had only just begun to doze when a startled cry woke him. Years of being on edge drove him to instant alertness as he quickly glanced around to look for the source of the cry. There was nothing amiss in the campsite, but everyone was looking north. Another quick survey revealed that Kíli and Fíli were missing from the company. No sooner had the thought registered than another cry—this one filled with pain—came from the forest. Before the sound had faded the company was on the move, rushing into the forest with weapons drawn prepared to defend themselves from whatever danger there was. They left Thorin to make his way as best he could, but he did not fault them for it. At least one of his nephews was in danger, he would have been more upset if any of them had lingered to attempt to aid him.

It was a slow, painful process, and by no means dignified but eventually Thorin got to his feet and made his way towards where he had heard the cry of pain as quickly as he was able. There were no sounds of battle, no clashing of weapons, though there was sobbing and yelling and cursing. He wondered if Kíli had just tripped and aggravated his wounds. He prayed that was all this was. He had prepared himself for the sight of a bit more of his nephew's blood but nothing could have prepared him for what actually saw once he found them. It was the worst sight that he could have ever imagined, bar one.

Kíli was on the ground, a bleeding gash on the right side of his face and Fíli sitting astride him with _a knife_ pressed to his brother's throat while Dwalin and Glóin attempted to pull him off Kíli without risking cutting the younger brother's throat in the process—all while Fíli yelled hoarsely for them to let him go and Kíli pleaded with Fíli to stop this. As it was, they were only restraining Fíli, unable to remove him outright without the possibility of him shaking them off and cutting Kíli in the process. Nori and Bofur were trying to slide Kíli out from under his brother while Óin and Dori attempted to pull Fíli's legs far enough apart to allow them manage it.

Unable to do anything to help, Thorin watched on in horror. Before, no blood had actually been shed between the brothers, only harsh words exchanges and that had caused damage enough. Even so, they could have come back from that. But this . . . Fíli was holding a knife to Kíli's throat with murder in his eyes and it was only the physical restraint of others that was keeping him from going through with it. Even if Fíli did come to his senses and apologize, Thorin didn't see a way they could ever recover from _this_.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**I . . . I don't even know what to say for myself . . . I'll just go sit in the corner and wear the cone of shame, shall I? **

**As inappropriate as this feels after ****that****, I will do it anyway as I still wish to thank you for your support and hope that I continue to have it. As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed. Y'all really make my day!**

**shanynde:**** I hope that you still love it after this chapter :l I just . . .yeah. **

**Dwíli: **** Thank you :') and that is a very hard thing to do and it just got harder . . . and yes, Fíli is totally broken . . . but we can rebuild! And amen to that! And there's not a whole lot of cutting down here. I think I've only ever gotten one flame and that was from a troll (I believe) because they called me out on something that they had been WARNED about. But I've found that most reviewers (even if they dislike it or see errors) tend to go about it in a nice way. :) And you should! I'd be willing to read them! And I hope that you still feel I am doing a good job after this chapter :/**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	13. Trapped, Afraid and Reacting

Kíli breathed a sigh of relief as he watched his uncle lean against the tree and close his eyes once more. Even thought he wasn't actually doing anything wrong he had feared that his uncle would know that he was up to something and decide that he did need an escort and use the fact that he was wounded as an excuse to give him one. He was even more relieved when no one else noticed him slipping out of camp. His uncle had been easy for him to divert. Thorin was wounded and exhausted. The others . . . they might have realized what his actual goal was. He was glad that they hadn't. He never would have gotten to talk to Fíli then. Kíli wasn't sure why everyone seemed so determined to keep them apart but he knew that that was not going to fix this. Fíli didn't need space; he needed someone to talk to. Even if he wouldn't talk to the others, Kíli knew that Fíli would talk to him.

Once he was under the cover of the trees, he turned his attention to trying to locate his brother. It took him longer than it should have to find Fíli's trail because his brother had been careful to leave little trace of his passing. However, small as the signs were, Kíli was able to follow them. He knew his brother well and had traveled with him often enough to know the tricks that Fíli favored. Once he found the trail, it was easy for him to follow it to Fíli.

He found his brother sitting on a felled log in a small clearing with his golden head in his good hand, the other hanging beside him to trail on the ground. It was clear to Kíli that Fíli was crying. His heart went out to his brother. Other than that day he hadn't seen Fíli cry in more than forty years. To see it now, it was clear to Kíli that Fíli needed him. He couldn't suffer through this alone.

"Fíli?" Kíli called softly from across the clearing, trying not to startle his brother overmuch. "Brother?"

"Go away," Fíli muttered, his voice cracked from the tears in his throat. He never lifted his head. Rather than accept this dismissal Kíli continued walking towards Fíli. He had announced his presence after all. He wasn't going to startle his brother and be attacked by accident.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Kíli offered gently. "I know that you're upset about what happened and if you need to—"

"What do you know of it!?" Fíli demanded his head shooting up so that he could glare at his brother. How _dare_ Kíli speak to him of what had happened! There was _no_ way that Kíli could understand the pain he was feeling. _Kíli_ hadn't had to make the choices that he had. He felt rage take the place of the regret that he had been drowning in at the thought that Kíli would think that things were fine between them, that they could _talk_ as though nothing had happened. Or that they could _talk_ about _that_! There was no way he could talk to Kíli at all, let alone about this.

"I know that you need to talk to someone," Kíli offered. He could see the anger and panic in his brother's blue eyes and knew that he had to do something to erase it. Fíli had always been like this. He would never let things out as they came in. Whenever they had fought Kíli had always had to pressure him into revealing what had upset him. This time would be no different. A little bit of pressure and Fíli would vent and it would be over. Kíli was sure of it.

"That someone is not you," Fíli snarled. The pity in Kíli's brown eyes and the knowing smile on his face did nothing to make Fíli feel better. In fact, it only made him hate his brother more. How could Kíli stand in front of him and _pretend_ that he understood him now when he hadn't understood him in the caves? And the pity! Who was Kíli to pity _him?_ It was Kíli's fault that he was in this condition. No. Kíli was not allowed to feel pity for him.

"If not me then who?" Kíli asked, moving closer to Fíli yet again and ignoring the feral growl that his brother let out at their proximity.

"Anyone else," Fíli snapped. "I don't want to see you, let alone talk to you. You betrayed my trust. Broke my heart. You have no right to speak to me let alone ask me to speak to you. You disowned me, remember? You can't take something like that back, Kíli. Now go away!"

"No," Kíli replied stubbornly. He closed the last bit of ground between them and stood right next to his brother. "You need me, Fíli. Whether or not you will admit it. You said yourself that you did what you did for me. What good was it if you lose me now?" He reached out to touch his brother's hair in an attempt to soothe him as he had done when they were children only to have his hand swatted away.

"Don't. Touch. Me," Fíli breathed, his voice a deadly whisper. "I can't bear to have your hands on me. Don't."

"Fíli," Kíli whispered, his tone filled with tears for his brother's pain. "At least let me fix this one braid. You . . . it came undone during . . . can I do that?" It was clearly a question and Fíli knew that if he refused it would be the end of it. He had fought with Kíli often enough to know his strategy. This was what he always did. Kíli would anger him and then cling to him like a leach, saying nice things and being tender until he was forgiven. It wouldn't work this time. The hurt was too deep for that, the wrongs too numerous. But Fíli knew. He _knew_ that if he let Kíli touch him it would be the beginning of the end for him. At the first sign of tenderness from his brother he would have no choice but to face what he had done. All the wrongs he had committed that day. He couldn't bear it. The anger was easier. At least with it the others stayed away from him and he couldn't hurt them too. No. He couldn't allow Kíli to touch him.

"Can you do it without touching me?" Fíli snapped, his eyes molten fire as he glared at his brother and swatted his reaching hand away again. He looked away from the hurt in Kíli's brown eyes as he was rebuffed yet again. He couldn't deal with that on top of the pain he already felt. He couldn't stand seeing that he hurt his brother yet again.

"No," Kíli replied. "And you know it."

"Then no," the blonde heir replied in a hard voice. "If you can't do it without touching me you can't do it at all. Now go away." Instead of going away, Kíli just folded his arms across his chest.

"What if I don't touch you," he countered. "What if I just stand here and we talk. Can we do that?" Fíli let out a sob at the question. Why wouldn't Kíli just leave him alone? Why couldn't he—just for once—do as he was told and go away? Why did he insist that they do this now?

"No," Fíli sobbed. "Please, _please_ just go away. I-I-I can't . . . I can't do this right now, Kíli. _Please_ leave me alone." He looked up at his brother with tears in his blue eyes. He hoped that it would be enough for to convince Kíli to leave. Surely his brother couldn't ignore such a plea. Surely Kíli wasn't so heartless as to force his company on Fíli at that moment.

Rather than drive him off, the sorrow and desperation in Fíli's eyes drew Kíli in. He couldn't bear to have Fíli looking at him like that. Not when there was a chance that he could fix it. Rather than leave, he instead rushed forward and wrapped his arms around his brother and tangled his fingers in his tawny mane before pulling Fíli's face against his chest and holding it there.

Rather than shove him away, Fíli clung to him. He sobbed into his brother's chest, his tears wetting the fabric and his sobs ripping painfully from his chest. After a moment he began to talk and Kíli just held him as he did.

"I didn't mean to do it," Fíli sobbed shaking his head against his brother. "Any of it. I-I didn't have a choice. I didn't get to choose. I didn't choose any of this. And I . . . I almost killed him. I almost killed Uncle! I shed his blood and broke my own hand on his face. I hit him hard enough to _break_ my _hand_! And he wouldn't even let me _apologize_!" He pulled back to look at Kíli with wide desperate eyes.

"I tired," Fíli cried, his eyes still begging his brother to understand. "I tried to apologize and he wouldn't even _hear_ it!" Suddenly something shifted in Fíli and he pushed his brother away from him, disgusted that he had just received comfort from the person who was at fault for all of this anyway. He stood, approaching his brother and glaring at him, not even caring about the shock and fear he could see in his wide brown eyes.

"He just told me that it wasn't my fault," Fíli said with a humorless laugh. "That if I wanted to blame someone I should blame him. And he was right to a point. If he'd have just _lowered_ himself just a bit, given up even a _fraction _of his foolish pride, none of this would have had to happen. But none of that actually matters. If _you_ would have just kept silent like _I_ tried to get you to the Goblin never would have realized our relationship to Uncle and we would never have had to get involved."

"Now Fíli," Kíli began softly, backing away from his brother with his pulse thudding in his ears. He wasn't sure what was wrong with Fíli, but the dwarf before him wasn't the dwarf that he had grown up with. Gone was any sanity from Fíli's eyes and in its place was pain and rage and what almost looked like madness. It terrified Kíli to see his brother looking at him that way. He now knew why they had tried to keep them separated. There was no telling what _this_ Fíli would do.

"Now, now, Kíli," Fíli began cruelly. "You wanted me to talk. You can't make me stop just because you don't like what I say. That wasn't part of the deal. As I said, all of this can be traced back to you. You took my soul when you got me pulled into the Goblin's little game and he forced me to _beat_ our uncle with my own two hands and then . . . then you had to take my heart too.

"Why!?" Fíli yelled suddenly, the sound a thing of pure anguish and his face crumpled with it. "Why did you have to say that to me? Do you—"

"I said that I'm sorry for that," Kíli cut in hoping to reason with him and bring back the brother he loved. "I didn't mean it and I shouldn't have said it. I'm sorry."

"And you think that fixes it," Fíli spat, his jaw hard thought there were still unshed tears in his eyes. "You think that just because you said that you're sorry I should forgive you and pretend that you never disowned me, that you never denied my right to check and see if our uncle still lived? How do you expect me to forget that Kíli?"

"Because you love me," Kíli replied as though it were the simplest thing in the world. "That's why Uncle isn't angry with you for what you did. He loves you."

"That's not why he's not angry," Fíli snapped looking away in an attempt to control himself. At the moment he wanted nothing more than to hit his brother and he _knew_ that it was wrong.

"Then why?" Kíli demanded moving back into Fíli's line of sight and glaring at him defiantly. "I'd _love_ to know why else he'd forgive you. I guarantee you if any of the others had done that to him he wouldn't have forgiven them quite so readily. He didn't even what your apology, remember?"

"Because of YOU!" Fíli roared rounding on his brother the urge to strike him rising in his gut once more with a passion. "It's because of you. He forgave me because I did it to save _you_. He loves you more than he loves me. More than he loves himself. He hurt us both to save you."

"That's not—"

"Kíli, I swear by Mahal that if you finish that sentence you will not like the consequences," Fíli breathed, his voice deceptively calm even if his eyes were wild. "I can't stand it. I don't want to hear any more lies. I'm done talking to you. Go away."

"Well I'm not done talking to you," Kíli replied. "Are you even listening to yourself? Do you even hear what you're saying? Fíli, it makes no sense. How can you say that—"

"Fine," Fíli snapped turning and preparing to move deeper into the woods. He had to get away. The things that Kíli were saying . . . they hurt. He could see the logic in it and it hurt. He couldn't stay. He couldn't face this yet. He had to go.

"If you won't leave I will," he said, his voice a panicked whisper as the urge to flee seized him. He made it maybe two steps before he felt Kíli's hand close around his right arm and before he could stop himself he had a dagger in his left and had swiped out with it, slashing along Kíli's right cheek deeply, the blood flowing almost instantly as Kíli cried out in shock and released him. His breath came in pants as he stared at the red blood flowing from the gash in his baby brother's face. He felt numb. What had he done?

Kíli stood there for a second in shock before he raised his left hand and gently touched the wound in his face before pulling it away to look at his fingers. They were covered in blood. Bright red blood. His own blood. That his brother had drawn. The wound didn't physically hurt yet, but it hurt him to know that Fíli was capable of raising a knife to him.

"Kíli, I . . ." Fíli breathed looking at his own hand as if it had betrayed him and staring at the knife in his hand in disgust as his brother's blood glinted ruby on the blade. He backed slowly away from his brother, trying to distance himself from the act by distancing himself from his brother.

"You-you cut me," Kíli said, his voice soft and filled with hurt, shock and confusion. He was still trying to come to grips with the fact that his brother had pulled a knife on him. It made no sense. Fíli would never . . . but he had.

"YOU CUT ME!" Kíli roared anger and betrayal fueling him and causing him to approach his brother as Fíli continued to back away from him.

"Kíli, I—" Fíli's eyes were wide as he begged Kíli to understand that he hadn't meant it. It had been a reflex. He hadn't actually meant to cut his brother. It had just happened.

"You what?!" Kíli demanded still walking towards his brother, herding him towards a tree so that he could not flee forever. They needed to talk about this, now more than ever and Fíli owed it to him now.

"I didn't mean to," Fíli breathed. "I swear it. I would never—"

"But you did," Kíli spat. "Do you want to touch the blood, Brother? Would that make it real to you because I assure you that whether or not you ever would, you _did_ just raise a weapon to me in anger."

"It wasn't anger," Fíli pleaded. "It was panic. Kíli, I'm so sorry. I—" He flinched as Kíli laughed, a cruel humorless sound.

"So what?" the dark-haired brother demanded. "I'm supposed to just let this go with an apology but you aren't expected to offer me the same courtesy? I don't think so, Fíli. My transgression wasn't nearly as bad as this one."

"It wasn't!?" Fíli demanded incredulously growing angry that Kíli could think that what he did was any less hurtful than what Fíli had just done. "How do you figure that, Brother? True, I drew blood but that can be treated easily. It probably won't even scar and it was an accident. How do you propose we bandage my heart? Should we just put it back in after you ripped it from my chest? Do you think that works? Can someone survive without a heart even for so brief a time?" Kíli scoffed at his brother's words.

"Don't be so melodramatic, Fíli," Kíli scoffed. "Yes, what I said was hurtful. I'll acknowledge that. And I shouldn't have said it. It was a mistake and I _am _sorry. But . . . I didn't raise a _weapon_ to you. All I used were words and—"

"And you think that should make it hurt any less?" Fíli snapped his rage back with full force. "Tell me, the mark on your face, does it hurt yet because let me assure you, the pain I felt at what you said to me was instantaneous and it hasn't faded with time. It STILL hurts, Kíli. Even after your apology. The ache is still there."

"Grow up!" Kíli yelled. "You're supposed to be the "adult." You're Thorin's heir. You honestly mean to tell me that a few harsh words said in a time of pain and distress are enough to deliver a mortal wound? That's ridiculous! You'll be alright; you just have to let it go."

"You don't understand!" Fíli yelled back. "You don't get to tell me to "let it go!" And you don't get to talk to me of being 'alright.' You have no idea what I'm going through!"

"Maybe not!" Kíli agreed with another scoff. "But I _do_ know that you're not handling it well. Picking fights with Uncle. With _Balin_. You're acting like a child. Maybe it's _you _that Uncle should have left home with Mother. At least then we wouldn't all have to put up with your temper. Let it go. Move on!" He couldn't stand to hear those words from Kíli—the very words that a quite little voice within him taunted him with: that he wasn't good enough, that he should have been smarter and thought of another way out of that situation, that he should have just stayed at home. To hear them spoken by another broke something within him and before he realized what he was doing Fíli had grabbed Kíli by the collar with the hand that still held the knife and drug him forward so that their faces were mere inches apart.

"Say that again and see what happens," Fíli snarled, madness in his eyes once more but Kíli was too far gone himself to heed the warning and looked levelly into his brothers eyes before another humorless smile crossed his lips.

"Uncle. Should have left you. With Mother," Kíli said slowly, making sure to enunciate every syllable. "It's obvious that you aren't cut out for this and everyone knows it." With a feral growl Fíli tackled Kíli to the ground, ignoring the cry of pain that burst from his brother as his wounded back made contact with the ground, the knife that was still in his hand pressed against Kíli's throat just on the edge of drawing blood.

"Say it again," Fíli snarled. "I _dare_ you. Tell me again that I should have been left at home. That Uncle should disinherit me in favor of you. Say it! Tell me that everyone knows it, just as they know that you're the favorite. SAY IT!" Kíli didn't say anything but his right hand came up to grip his brother's left wrist in an attempt to push the knife away from his neck. He knew that he stood no chance of doing it, Fíli had always been stronger than him and with his bodyweight above Kíli and Kíli's other arm pinned between them . . . Kíli just had to hope that Fíli didn't truly mean to kill him because there was nothing that he could do to stop him if he did. His only hope was to beg.

"Please," he whispered afraid to draw too much air for fear of slitting his own throat, "please, Fíli, don't do this. I-I don't want to die. Please stop this." Kíli felt himself flinch as the tip of the blade broke the skin and felt his eyes fill with tears at the realization that his brother was going to kill him.

"Give me one good reason why I should," Fíli breathed.

"Because," Kíli said, closing his eyes as he tried to think of a reason that would get through to this version of his brother. "Because—" He couldn't think of anything but was saved from trying any more by the arrival of the company. Before he or Fíli could move, there were hands grasping both of them. Attempting to prize them apart. For an impossibly long time they were deadlocked. Despite the straining of muscles on both sides no one was gaining the upper hand. It was only after a swift blow to the back of Fíli's head by Dwalin's elbow that the blonde heir went limp, the knife falling from his nerveless hand, and Kíli was able to be pulled from underneath him.

For a time no one said anything. They were in shock, looking between the dark-headed brother sobbing in Balin's arms and the blond-headed brother unconscious in Dwalin's. They all looked to Thorin for guidance but he was just as shocked as they were if not more so. Eventually it was Dwalin that broke the silence, coming to stand beside Thorin with Fíli still in his arms.

"Thorin, what do you want—" Dwalin began.

"Take him back to camp," Thorin breathed his eyes closed and his face pained. "Disarm him and don't let him out of your sight until I decide what to do about this."

"Do you want me to tie his hands?" Dwalin asked, his stomach twisting at the idea of binding the hands of the dwarfling sleeping so peacefully in his arms, all the rage and pain erased from his face and looking just as he had the countless times he had fallen asleep in meetings or on the edge of the arena after practices. He would do it if Thorin ordered it, but not otherwise. And even if it was ordered he might have to have another do it. He wasn't sure that he could bear it.

"No," Thorin choked out, his blue eyes flying open and looking at Dwalin in panic. "Don't do that! Just . . . just watch him. Don't bind him, and don't harm him if you can avoid it." Thorin sighed as he watched them walk away. His heart was torn between walking with Dwalin and waiting for Fíli to wake and demanding an explanation for his behavior and wanting to check on Kíli. In the end, he decided that he would do the latter. After all, Kíli was awake and it might take some time for Fíli to regain consciousness and he wasn't entirely sure yet how he should deal with his errant heir.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Guess what. I actually have a new chapter for you already. It wasn't its turn to be written but it refused to leave me alone so I went ahead and typed it up. I hope that you like it! I also hope that it helps to explain Fíli's actions. While unjustifiable, they were not without a cause. I only hope that his helps you to make sense of the disaster that we walked in on in the last chapter. (All the pleas and curses not to leave it there may have helped as well :) Thank you so much for all the reviews and PM's :) )**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And again, a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :) Especially after that last chapter. I was a bit of a mess once it was done and the fact that so many of you appreciated a chapter that ripped out my heart was so helpful :) I can't say this enough, but THANK YOU!**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	14. Stitches, Harsh Truths, and Punishment

"Come on, Lad," Balin said gently trying to get Kíli to his feet so that they could return to camp. "We need to see to the cut on your face. We need to stop the bleeding. Get it bandaged up."

"No," Kíli said, his voice a low whisper as he refused to allow Balin to draw him to his feet.

"Kíli," Balin said reaching for the young heir again. "We have to treat it, lad. If we don't . . ." he trailed off unsure of what he should say next before he decided that they couldn't allow it to go unsaid. Too much had been left unsaid and had caused nothing but trouble. They couldn't pretend that this hadn't happened. Fíli had attacked Kíli. He had drawn his brother's blood. There was no way to avoid admitting it and it would be wrong to try.

"I know that it could probably wait a bit. Fíli keeps his weapons clean but . . . it could still get infected. And—"

"Good," Kíli snapped cutting Balin off. "If it gets infected it'll be his fault. He _meant_ to kill me before you all stopped him. If that's what he actually wants I'll let him have his way. I'll die of the wound that _he _gave me. Let's see if he likes _that_!"

"Kíli—" Balin began only to be cut off once more.

"What!?" Kili sobbed. "He tried to kill me, Balin. My own brother. Fíli . . . he . . . It hurts."

"Your cheek?" Thorin asked quietly as he slowly and painfully knelt beside his nephew. He placed a gentle hand on Kíli's chin and angled his head so that he could better see the wound. It ran along his cheekbone with about a finger's width of unmarred skin beside both his nose and hairline. Had it have been much higher Kíli might have lost his eye. Kíli flinched when he pulled the skin apart to check the depth of it but didn't pull away. Thorin sighed. It was deep. To the bone in places. There was no way that it wouldn't leave a scar. He only hoped that by the time Kíli saw his mother again he wouldn't tell her what actually happened if she asked. Dís would kill Thorin for letting her boys come to blows like this.

"Does your cheek hurt?" Thorin repeated when Kíli didn't answer him.

"A bit," Kíli replied quietly, looking at his uncle for the first time since he had left the clearing they had made camp in. Thorin flinched at the lack of life in his brown eyes. Kíli was in shock over what had happened and was beginning to withdraw into himself. Thorin only hoped that he would come back out of it.

"It's starting to sting," Kíli said in a dead voice as he reached up to touch it only to have his hand stopped by his uncle.

"You don't want to do that," Thorin said gently. "The more you touch it the more it is going to start to hurt. Leave it alone if you can."

"Thorin," Balin said looking down at the two of them with regret, "we need to get back to camp. It's already growing dark and I'm not sure that I can keep both of you safe by myself if goblins do come. I know that the boy needs a minute but . . ."

"I understand," Thorin replied. "Come Kíli, back to camp." Where Kíli had resisted Balin, he didn't have it in him to fight his uncle. His anger was beginning to fade and leaving in its place sadness, weariness and an underlying question of "why?". He couldn't understand how things had escalated quite so quickly with his brother. One moment, Fíli had been there, hugging him, crying and seeming like they were going to reconcile and then . . . his brother had been gone. Kíli hadn't even recognized the dwarf that had attacked him. He had looked like Fíli, but he hadn't _been _Fíli.

That's what he tried to convince himself of at any rate as he watched Balin help his uncle to his feet. That hadn't been Fíli that attacked him because his brother could never do that to him. It kept repeating in his mind. Fíli hadn't done it. Not Fíli. He was almost desperate to believe it because the alternative—that Fíli hated him enough to try to kill him—didn't bear consideration. But a small, poisonous voice within himself said that he was a fool. Fíli had done it. If he needed proof he only had to look to the blood still pouring from his face and the ache building in his cheek. He suddenly felt very cold. It was almost nice because with the cold came numbness and the throbbing of his back from where Fíli had tackled him onto his wounds and the building ache in his cheek faded. Even so, it scared him and he wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to fight it off.

When Balin took his arm gently and began to steer him back to camp he didn't resist him but allowed himself to be led into the firelight. He didn't even protest when Óin began to stitch the wound on his cheek. The sharp pains as the needle passed through his flesh were nothing compared to the ache that was beginning in his heart. He just sat there silently and stared into the flames.

Balin watched as Kíli's face was stitched closed. There had been a brief argument about whether to cauterize it to stop the bleeding or to stitch it to minimize the scarring and in the end stitching had won out. None of them wanted to have to look at the ugly scar that cauterizing the wound that Fíli had left on Kíli would cause and the blood flow was already beginning to slow. But what worried him more than the wound was Kíli's stillness.

He had always been an active thing, even as a babe. He never held still for long and even when he did there was always a kind of nervous energy to him that showed that it was only sheer force of will keeping him in place. That or fear of punishment if he ran out on his lessons again. But now . . . there was none of that. He was perfectly still, almost as if he had been carved from stone, and didn't even move—didn't even flinch—as Óin sewed. It was unnatural.

It was also unnatural for him to be without Fíli. They had never been truly separated before. Not since Kíli was big enough to leave his mother's arms. They had eaten together, trained together, slept together. One was never without the other and the sight of Fíli's unconscious form next to Dwalin—with his brother clearly acting in a jailor capacity—and Kíli's still, expressionless form at the fire . . . it was wrong. He took a deep breath to combat the anger it awoke in him before he set off to find Thorin.

He knew that Thorin was both their king and their uncle but he was at least partially to blame for this. Balin had seen it for years—the way that Thorin held Fíli at arm's length while pulling Kíli in—but had said nothing. He had always tried to convince himself that Thorin had done it to teach Fíli that as a king he would never have the luxury of allowing others too close. He had disagreed with such a lesson, but it wasn't his place to say so. But if Fíli had ever shown even a _hint_ that it bothered him, Balin would have thrown propriety out the window long before. Until that day he had never even realized that Fíli had noticed the difference.

But now that he knew, he could stay silent no longer. He had held his tongue both out of respect for Thorin as his king and to avoid causing his friend to relive painful memories but the time for that had long since passed. He needed to find Thorin to do now what he should have done years before: confront him about his treatment of his heir.

**ooOO88OOoo**

After Thorin had made his way back to camp, he sat under the same tree he had sat at when the first got there with his head in his hands. He didn't want to watch as they tended Kíli's wound. He also had a painful question pressing on his mind: what was he going to do?

What Fíli had just done . . . Thorin's heir or no, it could not go unaddressed, unpunished. He had drawn a knife on his brother in an argument. Even if no one had said it, Thorin had no doubt in his mind that there had been an argument. Kíli had tried to reconcile, Fíli wasn't ready, they had fought and blood had been shed. Even so, an argument, no matter how heated an argument, did not excuse his actions. If he had just hit his brother . . . that would be something different and Thorin _might_ have been able to brush it off as boys being boys, but drawing a knife and cutting him before holding it to his throat. Thorin let out a sigh that was nearly a sob. As both his King and his uncle Thorin _had_ to address this transgression. However he was at a loss at how to do it.

It was too severe a transgression to ignore but how could he punish his nephew. Even if he had been one of the others it was not severe enough of a crime to merit the harshest of punishments—death. If Fíli had _truly_ tried to kill his brother they would have found him sitting on a corpse. It took them a moment to find the brothers and Fíli had had more than enough time to do it had he have wanted to. He had always been stronger than Kíli and had had the better position. From how they were, Fíli could have killed Kíli even if Kíli wasn't already injured. No, he hadn't actually _meant_ to kill his brother, no matter how it had looked. It didn't merit anything nearly so harsh as death.

But it was also impossible for Thorin to punish Fíli as they had when he was an errant child.

It was too great an error for that. Drawing a knife on your brother merited a harsher punishment than being confined to your quarters without dinner—not that they _had_ quarters to confine him to at any rate. And Fíli was _far_ too old for a spanking, even had Thorin been in any condition to do it. There was only one thing that he could do to punish his nephew for this and it broke his heart. The Uncle in him argued that it was too harsh. That Fíli was broken and that Kíli had most likely goaded him into it but the King in him knew that it was the only just thing that he could do. He _had_ to order it. He only hoped that in the end Kíli's softer side would win out and he would show his brother mercy.

No sooner had he come to his decision than he heard Balin's voice calling his name. He looked up wearily at his friend and confidant with a sigh. He wasn't sure what this was about but he could see the fire burning in Balin's dark eyes. The other dwarf was furious and that fury was directed at him. He felt a silent sob rise up his throat. Why did this have to happen now? Right after he had decided on a punishment for his nephew that had broken his heart.

"Please, Balin," Thorin breathed, emotion choking his words and making them nearly inaudible, "I don't know what you want from me but can't it wait? Please?"

"No, Thorin, this can't wait," Balin replied sharply. "It's waited for more than seventy years. It can't wait any longer and has probably waited too long as it is." Thorin was confused by his words. What had Balin held on to for more than seventy years that now needed to be addressed so urgently? Part of him knew that it nearly had to have something to do with Fíli and Kíli but he wasn't sure what it could be. What had Balin waited seventy years to tell him?

"In that case, speak," Thorin replied with a resigned sigh. "I will listen."

"It's about the lads," Balin said his voice as hard as his eyes as he glared down at his wounded king. "About Fíli in particular. You have done wrong by that boy, Thorin. His entire life. I know why you did it but that _does not_ make it acceptable. I've never said anything before because how you conduct your private life is not really any of my business and I didn't think that he realized it. But he did, Thorin. He realized it. He _noticed_ that you treat Kíli and Dís differently than you do him."

"I do not treat him differently than I do them," Thorin snarled. He had heard that for the first time from Fíli himself and had believed it to be the hurt his nephew felt lashing out and saying things that were untrue in an effort to spread his own pain and make it more bearable, but for Balin to say it. He was old enough to know better.

"You do," Balin snapped back, uncowed by Thorin's rage. He knew it to be impotent and even as a part of him screamed that it was wrong to attack Thorin with this while he was wounded and weary, part of him knew that this would be the only chance that he would get to make Thorin listen.

"You always have," Balin continued. "It's not his fault, Thorin. It's not the boy's fault that he looks so much like Frerin." Thorin flinched at the name by Balin carried on unperturbed. "He doesn't even know _why _you treat him the way you do. It's unfair, Thorin. Fíli isn't Frerin and even if he was it wouldn't matter. Both of them loved you dearly. Are you willing to lose Fíli's love because of the past? Are you willing to lose him because you still haven't forgiven yourself for Frerin's death? Because _that's_ what's going to happen. If you don't talk to him about this, and _soon_, you are going to lose Fíli. Can you bear to have that on your conscience as well?"

"If what you say is true," Thorin said slowly as he looked back over his interactions with his eldest nephew in his memories and realized that there always had been distance there that wasn't present with Kíli, "how can I fix it? How can I apologize for a lifetime of distance? Am I supposed to tell him that I'm sorry and that it was nothing he did, that there was no way that he could control the fact that he looks too much like my dead brother for me to stand? Is that what I'm supposed to tell him?" By the end of his speech, Thorin was glaring up at Balin, and his voice had gained strength. He sounded much more like himself than he had all day.

"You're supposed to tell him the truth," Balin replied gently. His anger was appeased at the fact that Thorin was trying to think of what to say. It meant that he would do it. "You can't do anything else. What comes from it, that's for Fíli to decide, but you _can't_ _not_ tell him. You owe him that much."

"I will talk to him," Thorin replied sadly looking away from Balin once again. "If he will listen to me, I will talk to him." Content that he had done what he came to do, Balin turned to walk off. "Balin," Thorin called. "May I ask one more favor of you tonight?" He waited until the white-haired dwarf nodded before he continued. "Ask Dwalin . . . ask him to put the keenest edge on a knife that he is capable of. It needs to be perfect." As soon as he finished he question, he lowered his eyes, it was almost as if Thorin was ashamed of the request. As if it were something dirty and vile.

"And what do you intend to do with this knife?" Balin asked shrewdly. He had an inkling about what Thorin had decided to do about Fíli's assault on Kíli and hoped to Mahal that he was wrong, though Thorin's behavior told him that he wasn't.

"What must be done," Thorin replied levelly looking back at Balin with indescribably pain in his eyes. "Will you ask him for me?"

"I will," Balin replied. "I just hope that you know what you're doing. If it's what I think it is, you're playing a dangerous game." With that Balin turned and walked away. Thorin's reply, when it came, was so quiet that Balin never heard it.

"So do I," Thorin whispered closing his eyes once more and running a hand through his hair in frustration. "So do I."

**ooOO88OOoo**

Fíli awoke slowly. His head ached. A dull throbbing ache originating at the back of his head. At first he couldn't remember why but then it all came back to him. His confrontation with Kíli in the woods . . . cutting his brother's face . . . attacking him . . . holding a knife to his throat as Kíli looked up at him in fear and _begged_ him to stop. .. and then Dwalin and Glóin and then nothing. It wasn't hard to piece together what had happened next. Dwalin had knocked him unconscious. It fit and it made sense.

He groaned as what he had done settled into his mind and tried to open his eyes, wondering if they had brought him back to camp or left him where he had fallen, only to close them just as quickly. The light from the fire had hurt. But at least it answered his question: he was in camp. He let out another groan and decided that he would sit up and then go from there.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he heard Dwalin say from beside him. "I hit you fairly hard. You might want to just lay there a while longer." He tried to nod to show that he understood but the movement hurt and he moaned in response instead. With his eyes closed, he could hear a strange rasping sound. It was familiar and he knew that he should be able to place it but he couldn't get his mind to work properly. It almost sounded like a . . .

"Are you sharpening something, Dwalin?" he asked quietly. He knew that he could just open his eyes and look if he really wanted to, but it was easier this way. Less painful. Not that he didn't deserve the pain that he was in. He _had_ attacked his brother after all.

"Aye lad," Dwalin replied in a tone that Fíli couldn't place. It almost sounded like regret. "Your uncle asked my brother to ask me to sharpen a knife for him. I almost told him to do it himself, but . . . he's in no shape to be doing any of what he's tried to do today. He needs to be in a bed resting not traveling and looking after fighting nephews."

"So he saw that?" Fíli asked, opening an eye to look at Dwalin and gage his reaction to what Fíli had done. He halfway expected to see anger or hatred but instead he saw sadness and regret in the older warrior.

"Lad . . . everyone saw that," Dwalin said with a sigh. He was pleased to see that Fíli's gaze contained none of the rage that had been there since their escape from Goblin Town but it hurt him to see it as well. Like his brother, he had an idea why Thorin wanted such a keen edge on a knife and he regretted that he would be the one to do it. Fíli . . . what Thorin had planned might just destroy him more than he already was. It would have been easier for Dwalin to carry out his task if Fíli was still possessed by rage, but to do it knowing that it would be _this_ Fíli, the one that he had had a hand in raising, that it was meant for . . . he was greatly reconsidering his first impulse to tell Thorin to sharpen the knife himself.

"I thought so," Fíli whispered. "Are they angry with me? Is Kíli . . . is he alright?"

"They're confused," Dwalin replied. "We all are. _Why_? Why did you do it, lad?" Fíli sat up slowly and turned away from the large dwarf, unable to look at him and see the confusion and disappointment there.

"I . . . it doesn't matter," Fíli whispered disconsolately. "It doesn't matter why I did it. I shouldn't have. There's nothing that I can say to justify it."

"So you won't even try to speak in your own defense?" Dwalin asked incredulously. He knew that Fíli was right. There was nothing that he could say to erase what he had done, but that he wouldn't even _try_ . . . that didn't sit well with him. The boy should at least _try_. Perhaps then Thorin could be persuaded to do something less drastic.

"What's the point?" Fíli asked, looking at Dwalin again to give him a small, sad smile. "Nothing I can say can erase what I did. Kíli will still have the mark from where I cut him. Odds are that he'll have it forever. I didn't get a good look at it, but I think it was deep."

"It was," Dwalin responded. "Óin stitched it shut a bit ago. He'll carry a scar from it." He watched as Fíli's head came to rest on his knee with a sob. He ached to reach out and comfort the boy but he wasn't sure how much Fíli would appreciate it. And as little as he wanted to watch this version of Fíli undergo punishment he wouldn't do anything to risk bringing back the other.

"Other than the . . . the wound," Fíli asked without raising his head. "Other than that, how is he?"

"I don't know," Dwalin replied honestly. "I've been here with you. I haven't had the opportunity to talk with him."

"Uncle asked you to guard me, didn't he?" Fíli said swallowing a lump at the idea that his uncle had felt that he needed a guard. For the first time he also realized that the now familiar weight of his weapons was gone as well. He had been disarmed and put under a guard. His uncle no longer trusted him, not that he was deserving of trust at the moment. He had just attacked Kíli in a rage. If he could attack his brother could any of them truly feel safe with him?

"He did," Dwalin agreed giving into his urge to put a hand on the boy's shoulders. Fíli flinched at the unexpected touch by didn't rage at Dwalin for it. It was a good sign.

"But," he continued almost as if he had heard the rest of Fíli's thoughts, "he also told me not to bind your hands. That I was to disarm you and keep you here but not to tie or harm you. He still loves you, Fíli. He just . . . you put him in a difficult position with that stunt you pulled."

"I know," Fíli replied looking at Dwalin with eyes that were filled with abject sadness. He knew that he had placed his uncle into a position he should never have been in. He knew that there was retribution coming for his actions and he would not fight it. It would be difficult enough for his uncle to pass judgment on him without him begging for mercy like a child. Even though Kíli had been right. It would have been better if he had never come. So many things would have gone differently. He wouldn't have hurt everyone that he loved in the same day if he had just stayed at home.

"I don't think that you do," Dwalin said, shaking his head and placing a gentle hand on the boy's face to force him to meet his eyes. "Fíli, I can only think of one reason that your uncle would want a knife this sharp. What he's got planned for you . . . it's drastic. Do you understand me? You need to think of an excuse for your actions and an amazing apology. If you can do that and throw yourself on Thorin's mercy then—"

"No," Fíli said, the same sad smile on his face and a gentle shake of his head. "No matter what was said, no matter why I did it, I still did it. I still drew a knife and cut Kíli in anger. It doesn't matter that it was an accident or that it was done in blind panic, I still did it. I'll endure whatever punishment Uncle feels is just."

"You're a brave lad," Dwalin whispered closing his eyes and wondering if Fíli would be so calm if he actually knew what was coming. "I only hope that you don't regret your decision not to plead for mercy." Once he finished speaking he withdrew his hand and turned his attention back to the knife in his hands. If Fíli was intent on enduring whatever Thorin could throw at him, Dwalin was going to make sure that the indignity would be carried out as quickly and painlessly as possible. As little as he liked what he was doing, the only mercy that he could offer the boy was to ensure that the weapon used to do it would be as sharp as possible.

As Fíli watched Dwalin's face as his hands worked the knife, he realized with sudden cold dread what was coming. As Dwain had said, there was only one need to have a knife that sharp. He watched as the large warrior tested the edge against a patch of hair on the back of his hand with horror flooding his veins. He only hoped that it wouldn't hurt even as a part of him almost hoped that it did. At least then it might help ease his guilt at what he had done.

**ooOO88OOoo**

It happened after dinner. Thorin called the company to assemble around the fire to witness the punishment of his nephew. Though he was weary beyond endurance, Thorin stood. He felt that if he was going to pass judgment on his nephew it should be in the most official manner possible. After all, this wasn't an uncle punishing a nephew; this was a king punishing a subject for a transgression. Or at least that was what he tried to tell himself as Fíli was brought forward into the light of the fire between Dwalin and Glóin. He offered no resistance and walked between them as docile as a lamb, his blue eyes filled with regret, sadness and a hint of fear. Thorin could barely stand to look at him. Fíli looked so small and scared between the large forms of his cousins. It broke his heart. And his eyes . . . Thorin couldn't look at them. Not with what he was about to say. Instead he focused on the tip of Fíli's nose as he pronounced his judgment.

"Fíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thráin," Thorin began trying to keep the quiver from his voice as he pronounced his nephew's fate. He had to stop to swallow heavily before he could continue. "This day you have dishonored yourself and your family by drawing a knife on your brother and shedding his blood. As much as it pains me to do this, such an act cannot go unpunished." He took a deep breath. What he had to say next . . . he had no desire to say at all. He looked at Fíli once more and realized that his nephew was weeping. Fíli knew what Thorin had decided and it was making him cry before the sentence had even been delivered. The king felt tears come to his own eyes as his heir stood there awaiting judgment without offering a word in his own defense. He heart begged him again to stop this but he ignored it. This _had_ to be done.

"I-I have thought long and hard on . . . on an appropriate punishment for such a . . . a transgression . . . and have come to the decision that there is only one just thing to do," Thorin continued beginning to lose the battle of keeping emotion from his words. "As you raised a knife to your kin so shall he do to you. Where you drew his blood, he will take something different from you." Again Thorin had to pause, it was only Balin's steadying hand on his arm that allowed him to continue and even then he had to close his eyes and take several deep breaths before he could continue and deliver his final judgment. "You drew his heart's blood and spilled his life-force in an argument and in the process lost honor. In recompense, Kíli, your brother, will be permitted to take the symbol of that honor in front of the assembled company. As your victim, he may take your beard."

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all. As soon as this story lets me sleep things will go back to normal on the updates (In other words I've been spoiling you with the daily update thing and it won't keep up forever) Not sure when that will happen but I do know that after today the next possible update will be Monday :) I work all weekend so no updates while I'm at work (though I can write on pen and ink) Also a note, my laptop screen died and I'm using the TV as a monitor so .. . yeah. I have a new one ordered but until it gets here it might throw a wrench in the updating works :/**

**And for those of you following my other stories, they HAVE NOT been dropped, they are in the works this one has just consumed me for a moment. There are fragments of chapters for both of the others done and they will be up on schedule next week, I promise :) It just felt cruel to hold this once I already had it done. I hope that you can forgive me :)**

**That said, I hope that you all enjoyed this one (if enjoyed is the right word anymore :/ *shrugs*)**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And again, a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :) **

**Shanynde: **** there is much more :) worry not!**

**Guest:**** Thank you so much! I'm glad that you are enjoying it!**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	15. Flashbacks, Anger, Tears and Explanation

Shocked murmurs went through the company at the pronouncement. Thorin was going to have Kíli shave Fíli's beard? They had to have misheard. That was . . . they couldn't come up with a word to describe just how severe of a punishment it was. It was . . . abnormal. While it was not an unheard of as a punishment for transgressions against another, it was nearly always offered in a threat that was never carried out. None of them had actually ever seen it done. Surely Thorin was bluffing! He was trying to frighten the lad into an apology, but one glance at the King's solemn face showed that this was no bluff. It was real. At that, the murmurs faded and a hushed silence fell over the group. None of them even dared to move for fear of disturbing the tense atmosphere. The lone exception to this was Bilbo, who was looking from one pale, grave face to the next as though hoping someone would explain what was happening.

But even their shock paled in comparison to Kíli's.

He had been standing at his uncle's side barely listening to the proceedings and refusing to look at his brother but at his uncle's words he looked up at Thorin in confusion. His uncle wanted him to shave Fíli's _beard_!? The beard that Fili had been growing for _years_? The one that he braided every night with care? And he wanted him to do it in front of everyone so that they could watch Fíli's shame? Kíli didn't want _this_. He was hurt and angry, that was true, but this . . . it was too much. True Fíli had shed his blood, but it hadn't been in cold blood. If his brother had attempted to knife him in his sleep he could maybe see it, but that hadn't been what happened.

Before he could protest the sentence, a knife with a finely honed edge was pressed into his hand by his uncle and Balin's was leading him to his brother's side with a gentle hand around his arm. He wasn't sure why but something about the situation made his heart rate speed and his breathing grow labored. He was panicking and he wasn't sure why. When Fíli looked at him with sad blue eyes that were _his_—The terrifying rage was gone and his brother was back!—and offered him a sad half-smile it did not help. Rather, something within him stirred painfully to life at the quiet acceptance he saw in the blue depths of his brother's eyes and he inexplicably wanted to sob.

"Please," Fíli whispered, just for Kíli's ears, "If ever you loved me don't draw this out. Do it quickly and get it over with. Please." With a shaking hand, Kíli raised the knife and placed it gently against his brother's cheek. Fíli did not ask him to stop, but he was trembling and his breath was coming in gasps as he stood there waiting for his brother to begin. He wished that Kíli would just do it already. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold himself together and refused to shame himself by breaking down completely. He took a strange sense of calm from the steady hands of Dwalin and Glóin on his arms. They were a grounding force. Something that he could focus on rather than the cool metal against his cheek.

Feeling the lad shudder, Dwalin gave his arm a gentle squeeze in an attempt to comfort him, but knew that he had failed. At the moment the warrior hated Thorin for putting his nephew through this on the same day that he had been forced to endure what he had in Goblin Town. This was beyond cruel. Older dwarves than him had lashed out in pain before and done more lasting harm and they had not faced such a punishment. True, they had actually lost loved ones, but he didn't see where Fíli's situation was any better. He had been forced to learn that under certain situations he would be willing to kill his uncle, after all. Thorin should have been more lenient. Everyone would have understood. But this . . . Dwalin couldn't speak for the others, but he could not understand this.

Kíli looked at his brother as he stood there holding the knife, taking in the trembling of his limbs and the large tears rolling into the blonde hair of his beard for what would be the last time for months. As he did, Fíli's words echoed in his mind before morphing into another voice entirely: one that chilled his blood: that of the Goblin King. He heard again the words that had been spoken in the cave to his brother: _"__All a quick cut like that will do is bleed him. That's not what I want from you. You are to__hurt__him."_

Suddenly he realized why the situation had unnerved him so. There were too many parallels between that situation and this one. While Fíli wasn't actually bound, he may as well have been. He was being held in place by Glóin and Dwalin. He wasn't there willingly. None of this wasn't willing on his part. True, he hadn't resisted or protested, but he could not want this. Kíli clinched his hand around the knife as he realized that things were playing out just as they had in the goblin caves. Once more Kíli had been drug to the side of a restrained family member to inflict harm on them at the urging of another. As he looked into his brother's tear-filled eyes, he felt resolve rise within him. He had been powerless to refuse that time, but he _would not_ do this. It wasn't as if his uncle would beat him for his refusal. He pulled the knife away from his brother before tossing it to the ground and turning to face his uncle.

"It may be mine to take but I don't want it," Kíli said ashamed of the quiver in his voice. "I _won't_ do this. He told me that it was an accident when he cut my face and I believe him. As to how you found us . . . I . . . I said hurtful things to him. Again. I provoked him and, yes, we struggled over the knife but . . . I couldn't . . . I couldn't have stopped him had he truly wanted me dead. I won't do this, Uncle. His actions were his own but I had a hand in them. He doesn't deserve this."

"I'm not saying that I've forgiven him or that we should forget what he did, but _this_ . . . it's too much and . . . and I won't do it," Kíli continued. "If you want his beard shaved off you will have to do it yourself. I won't stop you from carrying out the sentence but I won't do it for you and I won't watch as you do." With that, Kíli turned and walked away into the darkness. Thorin closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Even though the punishment had been just he had hoped—no prayed—for this outcome. He had hoped that the love that Kíli had for his brother would cause him to grant him mercy and if it hadn't have, it _was_ a just punishment and Thorin would have allowed Kíli to carry it out.

"I will abide by his wishes," Thorin said quietly. "If your brother feels that we should grant you clemency I will do so. You have escaped the punishment that I set out for you however I hope that the lesson has been driven home. I hope that you have learned that there are things that even a prince cannot do to another without fear of retribution."

"I have, Uncle," Fíli said, his voice sincere. "I will never do anything like this again. I will never raise a knife to any of our kin again save in self-defense."

"Release him," Thorin ordered. "And return his weapons to him. I'll take him at his word."

"You will not escape punishment a second time if you break it," Thorin threatened darkly.

"I understand," Fíli replied quietly, his head bowed. Thorin nodded and turned to leave. "Uncle," Fíli's quiet voice called him back and he looked over his shoulder to see Fíli looking at him with tears in his eyes. "Do you hate me now? Because of what I did? Because I hurt Kíli?"

Thorin knew that as a King who had just punished a subject he should walk away but as an Uncle who had just punished a nephew he couldn't do it. He had given too many choices that evening to what he should do as a King and knew that the uncle had to win out this time. So instead of leaving, he walked to Fíli and pulled his nephew into a tight embrace.

"I could _never_ hate you," he breathed in Fíli's ear. "I love you too much for that. You and your brother, you are both so dear to me. So precious. If anything happened to either of you I don't know what I would do. I'm disappointed but I could _never_ hate you." Fíli's only reply was a strangled sob before he started crying again in earnest and clinging to his uncle. His knees gave out in the power of his relief, both at not having his beard shaved off and that Thorin did not hate him, and he pulled them both to the ground with a force that caused Thorin to wince as it jarred his wounds but he said nothing and held his distraught nephew as Fíli wept.

Occasionally there were words mingled with the sobs, broken pieces of Khuzdul and the common tongue that were nearly indecipherable for the pain they contained. But Thorin didn't ask him for clarification, only allowed him to let it out. This wasn't the time for explanations; it was a time for release. Eventually his sobs subsided and his grip slackened. Thorin released him thinking that Fíli was finished, only to realize that he was asleep, his blonde head lolling on Thorin's chest.

Thorin smiled gently at him for a moment before he realized that this presented a problem. There was no way that he could move Fíli even to lay him down so that he could stand to fetch his bedding: Fíli's dead weight would be too much for his wounded shoulders to handle. He was trying to think of a solution to the problem when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Dwalin smiling gently down at them.

"Let me have the lad, Thorin," the warrior offered. Some of his anger at his king evaporating since Thorin's gamble had worked. But not all. Thorin had played a dangerous game and only sheer luck had save Fíli from further trauma. And his salvation may have come at the expense of his brother.

"I'll take care of him," Dwalin said with a nod to the blonde dwarf asleep on Thorin. "You go see to the other one. Fíli won't miss you until dawn. He won't wake 'til then. And I think that Kíli needs you. He was rather upset by your . . . it bothered him."

"I know that it did," Thorin sighed. "I just . . . there was nothing else that I could do, Dwalin. Fíli . . . I _couldn't _ignore what he had done. I wish that this had never needed to happen. I just . . . I can't do it. I'm _tired_. Dwalin, I have never been so tired in my entire life. Not even when . . . I _know_ that I need to go find Kíli but . . . I _can't._ I can't do it. My body . . . I _can't._"

"I understand," Dwalin replied looking at his weary king sadly. "I understand that you are exhausted. Durin's beard, Thorin, I don't know how you are still on your feet at all. You should never have traveled today. You _should_ have spent it resting after the injuries that you sustained. But . . . you can't leave this until tomorrow. Look what just a few hours to stew did to Fíli. We _can't_ have them both broken, Thorin. One of them has to stay whole or we will stand no chance of fixing this at all. Fíli is already broken. You _need_ to talk to Kíli before he follows Fíli." Thorin nodded sadly. Dwalin was right. He _had_ to talk to Kíli. As Dwalin took Fíli from his arms and turned to go Thorin stopped him.

"Dwalin," Thorin said sadly. "I know that I have already asked too much of you today but . . . don't leave him alone, please. I would stay with him if I could. I would prefer to stay with him. Just . . . don't let him wake up alone. Please."

"He won't leave my side, Thorin," Dwalin promised with a small smile. "I hadn't intended to let him even before you asked. Poor lad doesn't need to wake to nightmares with no one there to comfort him. When you've finished with Kíli, I will let you take my place. Unless you bed down with the little one. I doubt that he will share bedding with his brother for quite some time."

"Thank you," Thorin whispered. Once Dwalin had truly left, Thorin remained where he was for a time trying to will his body into doing as he wanted just one more time. He knew that he needed to stand and go to search for Kíli, but he had told Dwalin the truth. The abuses that he had been put through had finally worn him down. He had been still for too long while Fíli cried. The wounded muscles that had answered his call as long as they remained warm had cooled and stiffened and now any movement caused unbearable pain. It didn't matter that he wanted to go and fix things with Kíli. He knew now that he was not going anywhere until dawn. And perhaps not even then. There was no way that he could find Kíli that night, But luckily, or unluckily, for him he did not have to search for his nephew. Kíli found him.

When he walked up, Thorin offered him a small smile. "Ah, Kíli," the king said, "I was trying to figure out how I could—"

"I can't believe you did that, Uncle," Kíli breathed glaring down at him with tears in his brown eyes and his hands clinched into fists at his sides. "How could you—"

"Kíli, I didn't," Thorin replied gently. He understood why Kíli was upset. He believed that he had gone through with the punishment. Thorin could understand why he would believe that he had. The way that Fíli had wept . . . he could see why Kíli would believe that Thorin had shaved Fíli himself.

"I didn't shave of your brother's beard," Thorin said softly. "I honored your request for mercy."

"I know that," Kíli snapped. "I may not have watched, but I know. You didn't have time to have done it before he started crying. And there's no hair on the ground. That's not what I meant. How could you do that to _him_? To _me_!?"

"Kíli, I _had_ to do something," Thorin said tiredly. He didn't have the energy to fight with Kíli. Not after the day that they had just happened. He had already fought with the Goblin King, Fíli, Balin . . . he couldn't endure a fight with Kíli as well. Not that night.

"I couldn't ignore it," he said, his tone begging Kíli to understand that he had done what he had needed to. Fíli could not go unpunished no matter how much he had wanted to allow him to.

"That's not what I'm talking about, Uncle!" Kíli yelled, startling a few of the company that had already bedded down for the night and causing them to reach for weapons before they discovered the source of the disturbance. "Did you not think about how _we_ would feel about it? Do you not realize what you _did?_ It was Goblin Town all over again, Uncle. You put a knife in my hand and . . . he was _restrained_ and you wanted me to do something that would hurt him. How . . . how . . ." As Kíli spoke Thorin felt his eyes go wide. He hadn't realized that his nephews would see it that way. He hadn't realized that he was placing them in the same positions yet again. He had done it that way because it was tradition. The victim was the only one who was allowed to shave of the attacker's beard. That was just the way it was. He hadn't . . . he hadn't meant to recreate the cause of all the troubles between them.

"Kíli," he breathed. "I'm sorry. I . . . I didn't . . . it never occurred to me what I was forcing the two of you to relive. I just went with tradition. I am _so_ sorry. If I would have realized I would never have—"

"But you did," Kíli said in a small betrayed voice. The pain in his eyes broke Thorin's heart. He had seen that look directed at him before from eyes that were the same color long ago. It was the same look that Frerin had worn just before he ran from the tent the last time. Kíli hated him. He felt like his heart was being rent from his chest. First Frerin, then Fíli and now Kíli. He tried to think of something to say. Anything that would gain his nephew's forgiveness, but before he could Kíli was leaving.

With a disgusted shake of his head, Kíli turned and walked into the darkness. His movements stilted as his own cooling muscles protested being used. Thorin sat there, watching Kíli's retreating form until he could see it no more. The only thought in his mind was that he was worthless. He had been unable to keep either of his nephews safe in the cave. They had both been damaged under his care and now no matter what he did to try to repair it, he was wrong. It seemed that his nephews were on a balance that was out of whack. No matter how he slid it, how he tried to make it equalize and balance once more, the closer one of them came to returning to normal the further it drove the other one into despair. He was beginning to wonder if they would have better luck at fixing this if he was just to stay out of it. As tempting as it was, that was not an option. They both still needed him. The way both Fíli and Kíli had clung to him had proved that. He would not abandon them to face this alone. He couldn't. He couldn't live with himself if he failed any more members of his family.

With a miserable groan he lay down on his back. Laying on the marks the Goblin had cut into his flesh ached but he could see no other option. Generally he preferred to sleep on his side, but that was out of the question. His shoulders would never tolerate it. Nor would the deeper wounds on his front. That left his back. As much as it hurt to put pressure on both the words and his burn, it was better than the alternative. He would have preferred to sleep against the tree he had been against earlier but could see no way to get there. He couldn't even get up to get a blanket, let alone to move back to the tree.

He moaned, trying to find even a semi-comfortable position. He wanted to sob but his pride would not allow it. Not over his own pain. However he _did_ sob when he heard his name again. What could Balin want from him now? Couldn't they all just let him have a moment's rest? He opened an eye wearily and looked up at his friend looking down on him with sadness in his dark eyes.

"What do you want, Balin?" Thorin asked exasperatedly. "If it to yell at me about how I chose to punish Fíli please do not bother. Your brother and Kíli have already done it for you and I have no desire to hear it again. All I want to do is sleep. I think that I have more than earned it, don't you?"

"Thorin," Balin sighed before kneeling down beside his king. "Do you truly intend to sleep right there, just like that? No blanket, no bedroll, nothing to use as a pillow?"

"I-" Thorin began before he cut himself off in shame. How could he tell Balin that he couldn't force himself to move even enough to make himself comfortable.

"You can't get up, can you?" Balin asked. Even if Thorin didn't answer, the way that he looked away answered the question for him. "You know, for such an old dwarf you are occasionally exceptionally dense. There is nothing wrong with needing help, Thorin. Do you truly want to sleep there or would you prefer to sleep somewhere else?"

"You've done too much for me today already," the king replied uncomfortably. "I could never ask you—"

"You didn't ask," Balin said firmly. "I offered. Now, do you want to sleep there or would you prefer to sleep somewhere else?"

"I would prefer to sleep against a tree," Thorin replied with a sigh and a wistful glance at the nearest one. "It is more comfortable and I can breathe easier but—"

"Dori," Balin called suddenly, waiting until the other dwarf looked up before nodding towards Thorin with his head. Dori smiled sadly and stood before standing and coming over to Balin and Thorin. "Would you be willing to help me help Thorin get to a tree so that he can sleep comfortably?"

"Of course I would," Dori replied kneeling on the other side of Thorin from Balin. "Are we carrying him or—"

"I can walk," Thorin cut in not truly appreciating the way that they were talking about him as if he was not there. "Just help me to my feet, please." It turned out that Thorin was wrong. He couldn't walk on his own, not even once they managed to get him to his feet. Thorin tried, but it was mostly through the efforts of Balin and Dori that he eventually made it to a tree before collapsing once more. He was unconscious nearly before he hit the ground. He did not even notice when Balin gently tucked a blanket around him before dragging his own bedding near and seeking his own much needed rest.

**ooOO88OOoo**

After Kíli left his uncle he went in search of companionship. Normally he would have looked to Fíli or his uncle for comfort but he wasn't sure that Fíli would want him around and it was his uncle that he was angry with. So rather than seeking solace in family, he turned to Bofur and Bilbo. He found them bedded down for the night near Bombur and Bifur, though they were sitting up on their bedding and talking rather that sleeping as the other two were.

"I still don't quite understand," Bilbo was saying, his tone edging towards exasperation. "I _know_ that you dwarves are ridiculously attached to you beards but . . . I don't see how shaving off Fíli's beard compares to him cutting Kíli deeply enough to leave a scar."

"It just does," Bofur argued exasperation in his words as well. It was clear to Kíli that they had been at this for some time. "You don't understand what beards mean to us. They . . . our _identities_ are in them. That's why none of us have the same beard. Not to say that we _can't,_ but a beard is a mark of individuality and pride. And dwarf measures his self-worth by his beard. The thicker and longer it is the prouder he feels of himself. For Thorin to order Kíli to shave Fíli's beard . . . I've never even _heard_ of it happening before. True, most of us will say that someone will have our beard but it is just an expression, really. We don't actually _believe_ that it will happen."

"So Thorin was going to allow Kíli to take what makes Fíli _Fíli_," Bilbo asked, the shock suddenly making sense now that he had finally goaded Bofur into explaining him what had happened. "But that's horrible! I understand that what Fíli did was terrible, but . . . that seems a bit extreme. It has been a dreadful day for us all, after all, and everyone's tempers are a bit short. True, none of the rest of us drew weapons but . . . How could Thorin order such a thing against his own nephew? It seems cruel."

"That's why I didn't do it," Kíli said quietly as he sat beside Bilbo who flinched at Kíli's sudden appearance in the middle of the discussion on his family. "I couldn't do that to him. Not over this."

"Besides," he continued, forcing his tone to brighten in an attempt to lighten the mood, "I think the scar will help. Female dwarves love battle scars. They never have to know that it was given to me in a fight with my brother. By the time it matters I will have come up with a heroic story as to how I received it."

"You'd better," Bofur said with a humorless laugh. "If not we may get to actually see someone carry out the punishment that you refused to do. Your mother will shave Thorin's beard with her fingernails if she ever finds out what the two of you have been up to." Kíli shivered at the thought of his mother _ever_ discovering what had happened between him and Fíli that day. From what he had said to his brother to what his brother had done . . . she would skin them both alive.

"Can we not talk about that?" Kíli asked in a small voice. "I'm already going to have nightmares about what happened today. The last thing that I need is to have my enraged mother thrown into them as well."

"I think we all will, Lad," Bofur replied with a sad smile. "Today wasn't easy for any of us. I'm just glad that it's finally over and I can catch a few hours of shut eye. I think that I'm going to turn in. Good night you two."

"Good night, Bofur," Bilbo replied absently as he thought over what he had just learned and seen. Bofur was right, Kíli wasn't going to be the only one with nightmares. "I think that Bofur has the right idea for once," Bilbo said with a small smile for Kíli. He ignored Bofur's indignant "OY!" and instead continued his sentence, "I think that I will turn in as well. It has been a _very_ long day. Good night, Kíli."

Kíli stood to allow Bilbo to lie down but didn't leave. Instead he stood there awkwardly wondering how to ask for what it was that he wanted. Finally he decided that the only way to do it was to do it.

"Um," Kíli began awkwardly, shifting his feet nervously when they both opened an eye to look up at him, "do the two of you mind if I sleep here tonight? I know that I never have before but . . . Uncle and I had a fight and Fíli . . . well." He gestured vaguely at his face. "I don't think that he would welcome me. And I . . . I've never slept alone before. So can I?" Rather than reply verbally, both Bofur and Bilbo scooted over to make room between them for the youngest heir of Durin. Kíli smiled gratefully and moved to gather his bedding and place it between them.

He had only a small amount of discomfort as he tried to lay down to sleep. The wounds on his back caused him little problem as he had always slept on his stomach, but where Fíli had cut his face . . . he always slept on the right side of it and that night he couldn't. It also didn't help that while Bilbo and Bofur were warm, neither of them was Fíli. Their snores were unfamiliar to him and only made him miss his brother all the more. Eventually, exhaustion overcame his discomfort and sleep found him as well. His last thought before unconsciousness claimed him was that he hoped that tomorrow would go better than that day had.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all. One day done. Yes, fifteen chapters in and that was just one day :/ Poor things have really been put through the wringer. I hope that this chapter at least made it a bit better. I'm not sure if I am pleased with this one. What do you think?**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed.**

**Gpgal:**** Quite a few people did :) And poor Fíli would have preferred it if I had :'( And you were right about Kíli. He couldn't do it. I'm glad that you are enjoying it. And thank you so much for your kind words :) I hope that you continue to enjoy it!**

**Dwíli:**** Weren't they? Inspiration struck and I just had to go with it while it was there :) and I'm sorry that I broke your heart again. And yeah . . . both sides are sympathetic and I am never quite sure whose side I come down on at any given time. And Fíli has, he's truly crossed a line that he cannot uncross. Thorin may have . . . I almost want to say that he overreacted but he really didn't. Fíli really did cross the line and need to be punished but his beard . . . I don't know. I was nearly as agonized over the situation as he was and once I figured out what had to happen didn't want to write it :/ And you were right. Kíli couldn't have done it. In the middle of a fight, yes but in a punishment situation . . . never. And it did. Thorin's going to try to fix it but, how do you make up for over 80 years of favoritism? And it's not exactly schizophrenia, just rage just blind rage. And I take that last line as some of the highest praise you can give me. That you both dread what comes next and can't keep from continuing . . . it flatters me :) Thank you so much! And it is free. If you do, send me a PM, I would love to read them :)**

**That's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	16. Twitchy Sleepers and Nightmares

Dwalin felt that he had only just gotten to sleep when he was awakened once more. It took him a moment to figure out what had woken him. The camp seemed to be silent and there was no sign of an attack, but then it came again. A quiet, plaintive moan from beside him followed by the words "no, please." Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he looked carefully at the young dwarf sleeping beside him. Even though he was clearly asleep, Fíli's face was wet with tears. Small, pitiful sounds were coming from his throat as he writhed in the throes of the nightmare.

"No," he mumbled again. "Please . . . can't . . . Uncle." The last word was a sob itself and Dwalin knew which of the traumatic things the poor lad had been through that day was haunting his dreams. He was in the thrice damned cave again. As much as he knew that Fíli needed his sleep, he knew that dreaming of _that_ would not help him.

With a deep sigh the warrior reached out to wake the young heir. Rather than wake outright, Fíli flinched away from his touch, his hands coming up as if to ward off a blow while his lips uttered pleas for mercy. It broke his heart to see it. For Fíli to _beg_ . . . it was too much for him and he grasped the lad's shoulder a little more forcefully than he had meant to and gave him a firm shake. Fíli's eyes flew open at the touch, panic filling the blue depths before he managed to find the ability to focus and recognized who had touched him.

"Dwalin," Fíli said, his breathing ragged in the aftermath of his nightmare, "I . . . I'm sorry that I woke you. I—" He couldn't finish his apology as his face crumpled once more and he began to sob. Fíli felt shame flood his veins. Dwalin had always been so kind to him—even after what he had done to his uncle and brother—and here he was bawling like a dwarfling over a nightmare. Rather than stop his tears the idea that he might lose what respect Dwalin had for him only caused them to flow more freely.

"I . . . I'm sorry," he managed to say between sobs. "I know that I—" His words were cut off as the larger dwarf wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into a one-armed embrace, his fingers tangling in Fíli's hair.

"Hush, lad," Dwalin breathed. "You needn't apologize for a nightmare. We've all had them and most of us never experience the trauma that you did yesterday. But I _swear_ to you, it will be fine, Fíli. I know that it doesn't seem like it now but it will be." Fíli made a noise of disbelief but before he could argue against him, Dwalin began speaking again.

"I _know_ that what you did will haunt you," the warrior continued. "What the Goblin forced you to do . . . it was . . . but you managed it. You did honor to the line of Durin today, lad. You did well, Fíli."

"Uncle doesn't see it that way," Fíli sobbed. "You heard him. He said I dishonored my line. And he was right. What I did to Kíli . . . I'm not worthy of my place in the line of Durin, as Uncle's heir. Uncle would never have done anything like that." Dwalin didn't tell him that he disagreed with him about his uncle but decided to take another tactic.

"And Kíli would be a better choice?" Dwalin asked seriously. Fíli said nothing, but his sobs continued. When Dwalin next spoke his voice was far gentler than any Fíli had ever heard from him before.

"Lad," the warrior said, "I'm not saying that I condone what you did to your brother but . . . I can see why you did it. What Kíli said to you . . . it was beyond vile." Dwalin paused to sigh. "I understand that he was in pain and upset, but . . . he should _never_ have said that to you. You did nothing wrong, Fíli. Not in the caves. Honestly, I do _not_ blame you for being angry at him. I don't know what he said to you in the clearing, but he did admit that he provoked you when you were already upset."

"And I attacked him," Fíli whispered. "Like a child or an animal, not a prince of Durin. I should have been able to control myself. Uncle was right. I behaved like a dwarfling. If I'm going to behave like one I should look like one. He _should_ have shaved my beard off despite what Kíli said."

"I will agree with you," Dwalin replied. "That was not princely behavior but . . . I disagree with how Thorin handled it. He needed to address it but . . ." Dwalin trailed off as he remembered who he was talking to. He knew that he should not criticize Thorin's decisions on how he punishes he nephews to his nephew. Even so, he couldn't leave it the way that he had. Fíli needed to hear what he had to say.

"I think that he was too harsh with you," Dwalin finished. "You . . . you made a mistake, lad. There's no doubt about that. But . . . threatening to shave off your beard for it . . . But enough of this. It is time for sleep. Things will look better in the morning, you'll see." The warrior stroked the young dwarf's golden hair in slow soothing motions while he hummed the lullaby that his mother had always hummed for him when he was a dwarfling and Fíli's breathing eventually began to even out once more. Dwalin had just begun to drift off once more himself when he heard his name whispered in a small voice.

"Dwalin?" Fíli asked. The warrior grunted to show that he had heard and was listening. "What do I do tomorrow? I don't . . . what do I do?"

"You live," Dwalin replied with a shrug. "There's nothing else you can do. You apologize for what you can and then just live. One day at a time. One minute at a time if that's what it takes. That's all." He felt Fíli nod against him.

"Thank you," the heir whispered.

"Sleep," was Dwalin's only reply. And Fíli tried to comply. His nightmare returned twice more that night and each time the older warrior was there with soothing words and hummed lullabies to quiet his tears. After the third time, exhaustion finally caught up with him and he fell into a dreamless sleep that lasted well past dawn.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Across the camp Kíli was fairing little better. Bilbo sighed in frustration as Kíli twitched against him and woke him yet again. The first time that it had happened, Bilbo had been sympathetic. He had assumed that it was a nightmare and had sat up preparing to comfort the dwarf but Kíli had not been crying out and his face was peaceful in sleep. He had just been twitching.

Eventually Kíli had stilled and Bilbo had laid back down believing it to be over. It wasn't. Just as he was nearly asleep once more, Kíli twitched again. This time it was his arm, which twitched with enough force to nearly knock the breath from Bilbo while Kíli let out a little plaintive sleep noise. Bilbo rolled over to look at him once more, surprised yet again to see that his face showed no signs of distress. With a long-suffering sigh Bilbo realized that Kíli was just a sleep-twitcher. And that he had agreed to allow him to sleep next to him indefinitely. _So much for a good night's rest_, Bilbo thought bitterly.

"Woke you up too, did he?" Bofur asked sitting up slightly to look at Bilbo over Kíli's still-sleeping form.

"I know he can't help it," Bilbo began. "And I know that it is wrong of me to be frustrated with him for it but . . ."

"But you're beginning to wonder if Thorin picked a fight with Kíli so that he could get a good night's sleep just like I am?" Bofur added with a smirk. "Not that I blame him. If I was as wounded as he is the last thing I would want is someone who twitches as much a Kíli apparently does sleeping next to me. I wonder how Fíli has managed to sleep next to him for seventy-seven years."

"We should ask," Bilbo sighed. "There _has_ to be a way to get him to stop it. We're stuck with him, you know. He's already said that he won't sleep alone and I'm willing to bet everyone else will turn him down," Bilbo said with a bitter laugh. "We _had_ to be the only ones that didn't know about this."

"Either that or we could just get him and Fíli to make up," Bofur offered with a shake of his head. "Kill two birds with one stone as the saying goes. Fix their relationship _and_ make Kíli's twitching someone else's problem."

"I'd rather lose sleep than get involved in _that_ mess," Bilbo replied sadly. He glanced at Kíli, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully once more, and laid back down. "It looks like he's done. Good night, Bofur."

"I hope you're right," Bilbo heard the miner mutter as he disappeared behind Kíli again. Bilbo knew that if he truly wanted to, he could just move his bedding away from Kíli's and be free of his twitching but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not only did it feel wrong to the hobbit to abandon Kíli after he had agreed to allow him to sleep next to him, but the night was a cool one and, despite the twitching, Kíli was warm. Bilbo would endure being woken occasionally if it ensured that the sleep he did get was comfortable.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The next time that Kíli woke him he was feeling much less amicable. That time it had been Kíli's elbow that had hit him right between the shoulder blades and he rolled over with an exasperated huff to glare at the young dwarf who was murmuring in his sleep behind him.

"Blast it all, Kíli," Bilbo was muttering as he rolled. "I don't really care if you twitch but keep your sharp elbows to . . . yourself." His anger evaporated instantly as he took in the sight of the tears on Kíli's cheeks and the pained expression on his face even though he was still asleep. He was desperately muttering words, but they were in Khuzdul and Bilbo didn't know what Kíli was saying. However one thing was clear; he was distressed.

Bilbo went to tap his cheek to wake him only to stop when the stitched wound reminded him that Kíli would probably not appreciate that. Instead, he grabbed the young dwarf's hand in one of his own and tapped the back of it smartly with the other. With a moan of protest Kíli tried to pull the hand away from him, but he held it tightly.

"Come on," Bilbo hissed. "Wake up." He tapped the hand he held again, but rather than wake Kíli suddenly was on top of him, his eyes still closed. The young dwarf had grabbed the hand that had held his and had it pinned above Bilbo's head as he sat on his chest.

"Kíli!" Bilbo squeaked. "Kíli, I can't breathe." At his name the dwarf opened his eyes but they were blank. It was clear that whatever he was seeing it wasn't the startled hobbit underneath him. His face showed panic and he frantic Khuzdul words were still falling from his lips. It almost sounded as though he were pleading.

"Kíli," Bilbo snapped trying once more to wake the dwarf verbally. It didn't work. Kíli said something to him, clearly demanding an answer and gave Bilbo a firm shake with his free hand when he didn't receive it before repeating his words.

"I can't understand you," Bilbo pleaded. "I can't answer questions that I don't understand." But Kíli was lost to his mind and didn't seem to understand Bilbo's words because the third repetition of his question had such pain and anger behind it that Bilbo knew that he would have to resort to more desperate measures to wake the dwarf before Kíli could do something that they would both regret. Shame twisted in his gut as he raised his right hand and struck Kíli across the left side of his face. The slap had been hard and Bilbo's palm stung from it. Even so, Kíli did not wake. Instead his grip on Bilbo's hand tightened and his fingers dug painfully into the hobbit's flesh as he leaned in and hissed something else in Khuzdul. Bilbo realized that Kíli wasn't going to wake and began looking desperately for help.

The others were sleeping, ignorant to the scuffle that was going on beside them. Except for Bofur who was stirring from the sound of the slap. "Bofur!" Bilbo squeaked. "Help me. Please!" The words of the hobbit broke through the last vestiges of sleep clinging to the dwarf and he was there in an instant, trying to pull Kíli from Bilbo.

"_No," _Kíli snarled at him in Khuzdul. "_I need him to explain to me why he did it."_

"_Kíli_," Bofur replied in the same language, trying to ignore Bilbo's frantic eyes as he tried in vain to understand what was being said, _"He did nothing to you. Let him go."_

"_No," _the young heir argued. "_He needs to tell me. He keeps talking and I cannot understand him. I need to know."_

"_I can tell you, if you just let him go," _Bofur tried, he knew now that Kíli was asleep and the part of his brain that was on wasn't the part that understood the common tongue. He would have just told Bilbo to play into the fantasy and apologize but he couldn't do that if Kíli couldn't understand. That would not diffuse this situation.

"_No! I need to hear it from him_," Kíli snapped. "_**He**__ needs to answer me_."

"What's he saying?" Bilbo asked suddenly when he saw Bofur's shoulders droop. "What does he want from me?"

"He wants you to explain why you did it," Bofur said with a sigh. "And he wants you to do it in Khuzdul. He . . . he can't seem to understand the common tongue."

"Why I did what?" Bilbo demanded. "Slap him? I was trying to wake him up!"

"_Tell him to speak so that I can understand him,"_ Kíli demanded suddenly. Bilbo cried out as Kíli's grip on his hand tightened once more. Bofur flinched at the hopelessness in Bilbo's eyes as he stared up at him wordlessly begging him to do something. Bofur knew then what he had to do.

"Bilbo," Bofur said warily. "I need you to repeat after me. I think he thinks that you are Fíli. I know that the words will be difficult but this may be the only way to end this. Are you ready?" Bilbo nodded and Bofur began feeding him words in Khuzdul, feeling like he was betraying his people but seeing no way to do differently. Kíli would not wake and he seemed to be escalating. More than enough blood had been shed that day and if Bilbo uttering a few words in Khuzdul would prevent more, so be it. Bilbo repeated his words, stumbling over them but managed to get out the apology.

At his words Kíli calmed and embraced him, before laying down beside Bilbo and snuggling into his shoulder and drifting back off into true sleep with a contented sigh.

"Wha-what did I say?" Bilbo breathed, more than shocked by the sudden change that had come over the dark-headed dwarf despite the lack of emotion and inflection that had been in the words that Bilbo had spoken but not understood.

"You told him that you were sorry. That you had wronged him deeply and that it was your greatest regret," Bofur explained.

"And the last bit," Bilbo prodded. "The thing I said that made him hug me?"

"Ah . . . " Bofur said uncomfortably. "I . . . I should have warned you before I had you say that. I knew that he might hug you after you did. You told him that you would always love him." At Bilbo's shocked expression Bofur felt that he needed to explain further. "He thought that you were Fíli. I thought that it would help. Odds are that he won't even remember this tomorrow."

"I don't care if he does," Bilbo replied moving Kíli's arm that was across his chest a little further down so that it wasn't putting undue weight on his ribcage so that he could breathe more easily. "Maybe it will make him laugh. I'm sure that I was quite a sight! I never thought that this would happen. A hobbit, pinned under a dwarf and apologizing to him in Khuzdul for something he never even did. Tell me, how much did I mangle your language?"

"More than a bit," Bofur replied with a sheepish grin. "I hope that he doesn't remember. Even if it will make him laugh I'm not sure that I want anyone to know that I was . . . Khuzdul _is_ a secret, you know."

"I remember," Bilbo said with a small smile as he tried to wiggle back out from under Kíli only to have the dwarf protest and hold him more tightly. "Now that this is over . . . would you mind terribly if . . ." Bilbo eyed his blanket and pillow with longing and Bofur laughed before bringing both of them to the trapped hobbit. He tossed the blanket over the two of them and gave Bilbo back his pillow before dragging his own bedding beside them.

"I hope this is the last time I speak with you until after dawn, Bilbo," Bofur yawned as he laid back down. Bilbo's only reply was a quiet snore. He was already asleep. Bofur soon followed him. Kíli was finally laying still and neither of them woke again until they were roused after dawn.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well, all. Here's a new one for you :) I hope that you enjoyed it! And I have an ****ANNOUNCMENT!**** Due to popular request there is now a spin-off story of this one with the kiddos as kiddos and a bit of backstory for this one. I was thinking through the backstory and thought "what the heck! I'll just write it." So for those of you that asked, there is now more Durin Family goodness from me :) the title is ****Scenes of Trust**** and is up now. I hope that you enjoy it!**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed.**

**Dwíli:**** I'm glad that you were glad! It would have destroyed them :/ And Fíli is a bit calmer now . . . but he's also not quite right just yet. And Fíli knew before Thorin's lesson. It accomplished nothing with Fíli other than allowing him to have a cry with Thoirn. It truly did more harm than good. But Thorin WAS trying. Poor thing :( And you're right. They are broken in completely different ways and there's no easy way to fix this. And yeah . . . I know what you mean. They will probably have better luck if Thorin just steps out of it and lets them fix it. And yep :) flattered :) and thank you again!  
!**

**Gpgal:**** I'm glad that you were glad to see that outcome! And yeah . . . they were all a bit worthy of pity in this one, weren't they? And thank you! I thought that it would be a nice parallel. And poor Thorin . . . he was very lucky that his gamble worked or he would have destroyed them both and he can't win at all a the moment! I'm sorry that was sad for you to read and . . . it may not be the relief that he truly needs but he did get a good night's rest :/ It MIGHT help. **

**That's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	17. The Morning After and Bitter Realization

Fíli awoke slowly. When he moved it, his head felt heavy and there was a tightness of the skin on his face that reminded him of his tears the night before. At the reminder, shame flooded his veins. His weakness embarrassed him. He hadn't cried in _decades_ before yesterday and had done it in private for longer than that but yesterday . . . not only had he wept in front of the entire company and his uncle—Oh Mahal! His uncle had held him and comforted him like a babe and they had all seen that as well. As if his uncle needed _another_ reason to prefer his brother to him. There was no way that Thorin hadn't been embarrassed by his display. He had to be ashamed that Fíli shared his blood. True dwarves did not weep in public.

With a groan at the fact that he had made things worse yet again, Fíli moved to rise only to be stopped by a heavy arm that was across his chest. When he tried to turn his head he realized that there were also fingers buried in his hair. For half a moment his heart soared before it crashed to the ground. His first thought had been that his uncle was still there, offering him comfort. The last clear thing that he remembered was falling asleep in Thorin's arms as he wept.

Logic soon destroyed that hope. Whoever was holding him was lying on his side. His uncle was incapable of that at the moment. His injuries would not have permitted it. Right on the tail of that realization came a memory: one of Dwalin holding him when he woke from the nightmares of what he had done to his uncle and brother and stroking his hair while whispering soothing things—his normally gruff manner disappearing entirely. His shame at his actions hit him so hard that it left him panting. _Dwalin_ had seen him weep over _nightmares_ and had _comforted _him. Next to his uncle, Dwalin's was the other member of the company whose opinion he cared the most for—with the exception of Kíli—and in one weak night he had lost any respect that either of them might ever have had for him.

Immediately after the shame came hurt and anger. While he was grateful that Dwalin had stepped in and been there for him so that the nightmares did not eat him alive, he was angry with his uncle for putting him in the position where he would lose Dwalin's respect as well. He was hurt that Thorin had not stayed with him himself. Especially since he _knew_ that once he got up he would find Kíli next to their uncle. He _knew_ it. Once more his uncle had chosen Kíli over him. At his first opportunity Thorin had passed him off to see to Kíli. Not that he should have expected anything else. Not after what he had done. He felt his anger drain from him with the last thought and suddenly he was too tired to care about his uncle's blatant favoritism.

He knew that he could not compete with Kíli for their uncle's affections. He never had been able to. Even when Kíli had chosen to specialize in archery—which, while an admirable and useful skill, was _not_ a traditional main weapon for the line of Durin—while Fíli had chosen to focus more on swords, daggers and axes like Thorin had, their uncle had still praised Kíli for his skill and daring while only critiquing Fíli's faults. Or like when Kíli took to climbing trees: their uncle had only laughed at his antics though only years before he had scolded Fíli for doing the same.

When he had spoken to his mother about it, she had just told him that the differences were because he was Thorin's heir. She had said that her brother had higher standards for him than he did for Kíli for the same reason and that her father had been the same when it came to Thorin and her and their brother. Thorin was held to higher standards, Thráin had expected more from him.

"_That is just the way of these things, my darling," she had said with a sad smile. "Thorin . . . he loves you and your brother equally. He only treats you differently because he is trying to prepare you for the burden you will someday be forced to carry. A burden that will never be Kíli's just as it would never have been mine."_

"_What if I don't want to carry it, Mother?" Fíli had asked. She smiled gently at him and placed her hands on either side of his face so that she could look into his eyes._

"_I am afraid that you have no choice in the matter, Fíli," she had replied placing a gentle kiss on his brow. "You are the eldest child of the next generation of the line of Durin. One day you will be king. All that Thorin and I can do is prepare you to take up the mantle when the time comes. If he ever seems too cold or distant . . . bear in mind that he __**does**__ love you, my darling son. Your uncle loves you more than he loves life itself and he is only doing what he believes he must to make you a good king." _

He hadn't had the heart to tell her that she was wrong. Even then he knew that while Thorin loved him, he did not care for him as he did Kíli. He may be Thorin's heir but Kíli was his favorite. He had never even been in the running for the position of favorite. There had been no competition. Kíli had always held it. Their uncle had _always_ been warmer and quicker to smile when it came to Kíli than he was with Fíli. And his actions the day before . . . well, he was lucky that his uncle still allowed him to remain with the group. He stood no chance of ever competing with Kíli for a place in his uncle's heart after that.

A small, sick, bitter part of him wondered what would have happened in the caves had their positions been reversed. Would their uncle still have been so encouraging if it had been Fíli's life on the line and Kíli's soul? Would he have sacrificed Kíli's sanity and his own body to save Fíli's life? Fíli wasn't sure of the answer. After all, Kíli _was _the favorite and if Fíli _had_ died Kíli could have become Thorin's heir. Their uncle wasn't _that_ old. There was still time to groom Kíli into a worthy heir and a good king. Fíli _knew_ that in his uncle's eyes he was expendable. To his uncle _he_ was the extra, even if the rest of the world believed it to be Kíli.

That same masochistic part of him was the part that encouraged him to disentangle Dwalin's fingers from his hair and stand to search for his uncle and brother. The rest of the camp was still asleep, even though dawn had long since come. Only Gandalf was awake, leaning against a tree facing the way they had come and clearly keeping watch. The wizard gave him a small smile and a little nod of his head which Fíli tried to return before he scanned the sleeping company for his family. He was shocked to see Thorin leaning against a tree. Clearly asleep and clearly alone.

He was confused. He had _known_ that Kíli would be beside their uncle. With that in mind, he listened carefully for the sound of movement in the forest around them thinking that his brother must have gotten up to relieve himself and would be coming back soon. But as he looked more closely he could see that Thorin's blanket was tucked around him and there was no sign that another had slept there. It made no sense. Kíli _had_ to have slept there.

"Kíli was never there last night, if that is what is troubling you," Gandalf said quietly. "He did not sleep beside your uncle." Fíli turned to the wizard in shock, more surprised that Gandalf seemed to know what he had been thinking than he was that Kíli had not slept by their uncle.

"How did you—"

"My dear boy," Gandalf replied with a humorless laugh, "I have walked this earth for far longer than I care to remember most of the time. Even had I not, the look of longing and jealousy on your face was as clear as if you had said it yourself." Fíli sighed. It would do not good to deny Gandalf's statement. He was jealous of the favor that Thorin showed Kíli. "It is not Kíli's fault, you know," the wizard said gently. "He did not do anything to try to curry your uncle's favor. And he does love you. I think that if you knew more of Thorin's past it would—"

"What!?" Fíli snapped turning to face Gandalf. His breath was coming heavily as he fought to control his temper. It would do him no good to attack the wizard. "What? If I knew his past it would what? Absolve him of more than seventy years of favoritism?" Fíli scoffed at the idea. He could think of nothing that could explain it away. "And _I_ _know_ that Kíli is not responsible. Much like with my actions and Kíli's words, Uncle's choices were his own. But even if I did not, I fail to see how it is any of _your_ business to advocate for either of them. Is Kíli _your_ favorite as well? Do _you_ favor him enough that you seek to defend slights against me that are not his fault to me? Do you think me so foolish that I am not able to sort out those who have done wrong to me from those who are blameless?"

"My dear dwarf," Gandalf replied holding his hands up as a sign of peace, "I meant no offence to you or your kin. I was merely trying to help."

"I don't need your help," Fíli muttered before he stalked off towards where he could see his brother's boot poking out from a pile of dwarves that seemed to include Bofur, Bombur, Bifur and Bilbo in addition to Kíli.

"Despite how little you resemble him, you bear a striking similarity to your uncle in your ability to accept aid when it is freely given," he heard Gandalf mutter his tone showing that what he had just learned displeased him. Fíli couldn't care less about having displeased the wizard. He had disappointed everyone else, why should Gandalf be any different? Even so, Gandalf's words ate at him. Once he would have given anything to hear that he bore a similarity to his uncle but after what had happened . . . he resented it.

His uncle's stubbornness and foolishness had been what had driven the wedge between him and Kíli. It was one thing for him to prefer Kíli to Fíli—Fíli had endured that for years without protest—but to put them into an unnecessary situation that caused Fíli to break and Kíli to say such cruel things . . . that was something that Fíli wasn't sure if he could forgive. If his uncle would have just given up even a _bit_ of his pride they could have all been spared the heartbreak that had followed. Gandalf's words made him wonder if he was capable of such foolishness. Could he someday lead to the breaking of his own family?

He felt tears sting his eyes as he looked down at his brother, sleeping peacefully on Bilbo's shoulder and clinging to him as he had clung to Fíli for years. His face was smooth in sleep, all the lines that had been there the previous day gone. The only thing marring the smoothness were the dried tear tracks that gave evidence to the fact that he had wept the night before. That and the livid red mark across his cheek.

Fíli dropped to his knees beside his brother as he answered his own question from moments before. Yes. Yes he _could_ lead to the breaking of his own family. His uncle may have made the first fissure but he was the one that had driven the final blow that shattered it. With tears prickling his eyes once more he gently unstuck Kíli's hair from the wound before tracing a finger along the upper edge of it. He let out a hiss as he saw just how close he had come to taking Kíli's eye. Not only would that have crippled him but he would not have been able to shoot again. That would have destroyed him and perhaps killed him. With where they were, Kíli would not have been able to get the medical treatment he would need and might have died from infection if enemies didn't get him first. Crippled warriors were not long for this world.

"I know that it will never be enough," he whispered placing his forehead against Kíli's temple and whispering in his hair, "but I swear to you that I regret my actions. Even if I had not already given Uncle my word . . . I _swear_ to you, Kíli, I will _never_ lash out at you like this again. I am so sorry. Please, _please_, forgive me!" A single tear escaped his eye and landed on Kíli's cheek, moving down the skin into the wound. Kíli made a small noise of discomfort and reached up as if to bat away a fly. Fíli saw the motion and caught his hand before he could hit the wound and cause himself pain. He didn't miss the sudden stiffness in Kíli's shoulders or the way that his eyes widened in panic when he recognized his brother.

His heart broke as Kíli tried to scramble away from him only to stop with a cry of pain as the sudden motion aggravated his wounds. He held his hands up with the palms facing his brother to show that he was unarmed and meant him no harm.

"Kíli, please," Fíli begged quietly, "Just relax. I . . . I'm not going to hurt you. Not again. _Never _again. Please, just stop trying to escape. Please." When Fíli made no move to reach for him or one of his knives the panic began to fade from Kíli's veins and he realized that it was only his brother that had been above him. It wasn't the terrifying angry dwarf that had cut his face the day before or that haunted his dreams. It was just Fíli. His Fíli.

"Do you mean that?" Kíli asked quietly staring levelly at his brother. "What you just said?"

"More than I can ever explain to you," Fíli replied fervently. "I will _never_ raise a blade or a fist to you in anger again, Brother. I . . . I don't know what possessed me to do it even the once."

"I do," Kíli said with a wry smile. "Yesterday was . . . I don't know any words vile enough to describe it . . . I may have to ask Dwalin for one later—I'll bet _he_ knows one. Anyway . . . I . . . you . . . _we _weren't . . . I don't know about you, Fee but I wasn't prepared for anything like that."

"Neither was I," Fíli admitted. "I . . . I still can't believe some of the things I did yesterday." He shuddered at the memories of Thorin's cries of pain and Kíli's shocked face. "To uncle . . . to you." He reached out to stroke Kíli's cheek only to have him pull away.

"Please," Kíli whispered looking at him through his hair, his brown eyes guarded. "I . . . I can't bear for you to touch me. Not yet. I . . . I need time, Fíli. I am trying. Part of me wants to launch myself at you and embrace you just to prove to myself that you are real and alive and here but . . . what you did yesterday . . . I'm afraid of you, Brother. And part of me wants to run. I'm sorry." Fíli looked away and Kíli only kept speaking.

"I know that I am somewhat responsible for this," he gestured at his cheek though he knew that Fíli could not see it. "I know that I provoked you. What I said last night was true. I was cruel to you. Both in the caves and in the clearing but . . . even so . . . I _never_ believed that you would . . . no _could_ draw my blood." There was a long pause. Neither brother knowing what to say to that. Fíli wanted to apologize yet again for his actions but knew that it would do no good and Kíli . . . he felt confused.

"How did we get here, Fíli?" Kíli whispered. Fíli glanced at him and saw sadness beyond his years in his brother's brown eyes. "I mean . . . I know how we got _here_ but I mean, what happened between us that would even allow us to get to this point? How did you get so angry so quickly? What happened?"

"I don't know, Kíli," Fíli lied. He knew that what had happened yesterday was years of anger and resentment boiling to the surface but how could he explain that to Kíli? How could he explain that he had allowed years of pain to fester until it had infected his soul and enabled him to lash out at the one being on this earth that loved him the most dearly? He didn't see how he could so he lied.

"I don't know," he repeated as if by repetition he could make it true. He reached out to his brother, intending to draw him into a hug only to have Kíli flinch away from him once more. "Do you . . . do you ever think that things . . . that _we_ can go back to how things were, you know . . . before?" he asked hesitantly. He knew that there were some things that could never go back to how they were but he hoped that his relationship with his brother was not one of those things. Kíli looked at him for a long moment, his brown eyes unreadable before he sighed and sadness filled them.

"I don't know," Kíli replied honestly. "I don't know if we can ever go back, Fíli. I just . . . I don't know." Fíli nodded sadly. He had known that would be the answer he was going to get. Suddenly Kíli laughed, it was a weak sound but was a laugh nonetheless.

"What?" Fíli asked. He saw absolutely nothing humorous about this situation and wondered just what Kíli thought was funny.

"It's nothing," Kíli replied, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I had a strange dream is all."

"Oh?" the blonde brother asked raising an eyebrow and wondering if Kíli would feel inclined to share after their rift.

"Yes," Kíli replied with a weak parody of his usual smirk in place. "I dreamt that _Bilbo_ was apologizing to me . . . in _Khuzdul_. Or some version of it . . . and then he told me that he loved me and always would." Despite himself Fíli snorted. _Bilbo_ speaking Khuzdul and declaring his undying love for Kíli. It was ridiculous!

"I told you it was strange!" Kíli defended.

"That is _beyond_ strange, Kíli," his brother replied, but Kíli never heard it. He was lost in his own thoughts as the rest of the dream floated to the surface.

He grew quiet as he remembered what had come before. He had been floating without a body watching his own actions in the Goblin caves and for the rest of the day. He had been staring at himself, demanding to know why it had happened, why he had done what he did. _Why_ he had hurt his brother as he had. When suddenly he was back in a body, his hand being grabbed and slapped. He had pinned the other him down, demanding answers but even though the mouth had moved what had come out had been gibberish. His waking mind recognized it as Westron: _pleading_ in the common tongue. Then came a slap and, suddenly, it was not himself that was pinned below him. It was his brother.

The question he had for his brother had been the same as the one he had for himself: Why. Again the answer had been gibberish and then there was a third voice: one that he now recognized as Bofur's. When he had looked away the body below him morphed once more. Now rather than Fíli or himself it was his uncle that was pinned beneath him. He had been filled with the sudden desire to know why his uncle had pushed Fíli the way he had. Why had he not let Kíli do his part to keep them all safe? Fíli was entirely broken to keep him safe and . . . and Kíli knew that it would not have been as bad for his brother if his uncle would have just let him help. He could have borne some of the pain if it would have spared his brother's soul. Thorin should have allowed him to help.

It had angered him when Thorin responded with more of the gibberish rather than answer his question. It had hurt that his uncle did not even believe that he could handle the truth of his words any more than he could handle the burden of helping to keep them safe. Then, in halting, flawed Khuzdul the response had come. It had been an apology and a declaration of undying familial love and had soothed him. Somewhere in his mind it had registered that the voice was too high to belong to his uncle but he had ignored it and allowed sleep to take him.

His waking mind knew that it was that same undying familial love that had led his uncle to make the choices he had made in the caves but he was still a bit confused by it. Even if he was grateful to have been spared the pain that Thorin was having to deal with . . . his uncle's actions still made no sense to him. Even taking into account that it had been out of love rather than distrust of his abilities . . . it made no sense to him that his uncle would not only risk his own life but his heir's sanity to spare one member of the company. Even taking into account his blood line he could make no sense of it.

Their uncle _had_ to have known that death was a possibility for any or all of them and above all else his uncle had always shown himself to be pragmatic. One life was not worth two, no matter who the lives in question were. Thorin had always taught them that when he had trained them to fight. Why would he break his own rule and risk two lives—two _important_ lives at that—for one?

The words that his uncle had spoken the day before that had hurt him so flowed through his mind once more: _"I wanted to. Your mother insisted that I bring you if I wanted to bring Fíli. He had to come, so you had to come as well."_ For the first time it occurred to him that he had taken things the wrong way the day before. What if his uncle had not wanted to leave him because he doubted him but because he favored him and had wanted him to survive? He had just thought that his uncle had to have known that death was a possibility, had that been Thorin's reason for wanting to leave him at home?

As he thought back over his childhood and his own interaction with his uncle and the ones that he had witnessed between his uncle and Fíli, he felt certainty flood him like a flood of snowmelt: cold and overwhelming. Thorin favored him over Fíli. He felt numb at the though. He had always thought that the inverse was true but . . . his uncle had sacrificed his brother—his heir—to spare him pain. He needed no more proof than that.

Suddenly the ice in his veins was replaced with the fire of righteous fury for his brother. He wasn't sure if anyone had ever called his uncle on the wrongs he had done Fíli but Kíli was about to do it. He didn't care that it wasn't appropriate or kind . . . his uncle had destroyed his brother in favor of sparing him a bit of pain. He would not let that go unsaid any more than his uncle had been able to allow Fíli's actions to go unpunished. He wondered if Fíli knew what he had just realized. If he did . . .

With a gasp he glanced at his brother. Fíli raised an eyebrow at the shocked wide eyes that were staring at him. Kíli stared at his brother, seeing the sadness that was in his blue eyes and Kíli knew that he had just realized the truth: Fíli knew. Fíli had always know. That was where the anger had come from.

"Oh, Fíli," he breathed. "Why did you never tell me? I don't know what I could have done but you . . . you _should_ have told me, Fíli."

"Tell you what?" Fíli asked in confusion. One moment they had been talking about Kíli's dream and then . . . Kíli was making cryptic statements. "What did I never tell you, Kíli?"

"About Uncle," Kíli whispered. "I . . . I'm so sorry. I . . . I never knew but," he paused and his eyes that had been treatning to fill with tears filled with determination and fire instead, "I _will _talk to him about it, Fíli. What he has done to you . . . it was _wrong_." With that, Kíli shot to his feet, his pain at the action only feeding into his anger and began stalking towards their uncle, fury radiating from him.

Fíli sat there for a moment trying to figure out what on earth Kíli was talking about when it suddenly dawned on him. Kíli knew. Kíli knew that he was the favorite and he was livid about it. Kíli was livid and was going to confront their uncle. Before his brain could fully process what was happening Fíli was on his feet and chasing after Kíli, hoping to stop him before he could do something unbelievably stupid and confront their uncle. He knew very will just how sharp Kíli's tongue could be when he was provoked and knew that with the injuries that their uncle had sustained—seeing as they _had_ been for Kíli's sake—his favorite nephew turning on him might just be enough to break him and while he was angry with Thorin he wasn't _that _angry. He _had_ to stop Kíli!

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all a new chapter. As always with this one it seems like they take one step forward and then ten back but they will eventually get this figured out. I hope that you enjoyed it!**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed.**

**Gpgal:**** Poor things indeed! And reassurance from his uncle has been FAR too long in coming. :( I'm glad that you liked the Kili, Bilbo, and Bofur scene . . . and yeah . . . Bilbo trying to speak Khuzdul . . . it would have been bad :) And I'm glad that you are loving the angst because it is not going anywhere :)**

**That's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	18. A Promise, Kind Words and Pursuit

"Kíli! Stop! Don't!" Fíli called trying to catch up to his brother without stepping on any of the dwarves that were still sprawled out in sleep. "Kíli!" With a great leap forward he caught his brother's wrist and brought him to a stop.

"Let me go, Fíli," Kíli snapped pulling against his brother's hold. "I can't believe that I never saw it before. How long? How long has _he_ treated you this way?"

"Kíli," the elder sighed looking away from the anger in Kíli's eyes.

"How long?" the dark-haired brother snarled grabbing Fíli's chin with the hand that wasn't being held by Fíli and forcing the blonde to look at him. "Answer me, Fíli."

"I don't know," Fíli replied with a shrug. At Kíli's incredulous look he scoffed, "I don't know! I don't think it was like this in the beginning, even after you were born. Not really." Fíli's could feel his forehead crease as he tried to sift through shadowy childhood memories. There were happy memories there, where his uncle smiled at him and laughed with him and played as he did with Kíli. When had it changed? He couldn't pinpoint the when but he did know that it had. His uncle had become distant towards him even though he was still the same with Kíli as he had always been.

"I don't know, Kíli," the blonde sighed. "And it doesn't matter anyway."

"It . . . It _doesn't_ matter!?" Kíli spat incredulously. "How can you say that? It matters, Fíli! He . . ."

"He what, Kíli," Fíli asked with a sad shake of his head. "Think about it. What are you actually going to say to him? He's _never_ been cruel to me, Kíli. Not truly. It's not as if he was beating or starving me while he doted on you. He was just . . ." Fíli's blue eyes closed as he took a moment to collect himself before he continued. "He picked you as his favorite. He's not actually done anything _wrong_, Kíli. He's allowed to have a favorite. So what if it's not me?"

"Fíli . . . I . . ." Kíli trailed off, releasing Fíli's chin and running a hand through his hair while looking towards their still-sleeping uncle and pulling weakly against Fíli's hold. "I _have_ to do something. I can't just . . . I _need _to talk to him about this. I _can't_ let him do this to you. If I just point it out maybe—"

"Don't," Fíli repeated sadly. "It won't change anything, Kíli. Just because you tell him that you know that he's picked a favorite and that you don't like his choice . . . what good will it do, Brother? He's in pain enough already. _You_ cannot accuse him of this, Kíli. If you were anyone else . . . I don't know if you could but . . . not _you_. Not after what happened yesterday."

Kíli sighed as he heard what his brother was _actually_ saying: 'You're his favorite if you turn on him now it will destroy him.' That was what Fíli had _meant_ to say but couldn't bring himself to. Kíli felt his anger fade as he realized the truth of his brother's words. He suddenly felt very tired even though he had just woken up.

Fíli breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the anger fade and Kíli's brown eyes took on a look of soft sadness. He was glad that Kíli had seen reason. He would not have his uncle broken by his brother for his sake. Thorin _needed_ Kíli just as he needed Fíli even if he didn't realize it yet.

"Why?" Kíli asked suddenly. Fíli wasn't sure what it was that his brother wanted to know so he said nothing and waited for Kíli to finish his question. It didn't take long. "Why did you stop me?" In response Fíli gave a small, mirthless laugh and reached out slowly to trace below the wound on Kíli's cheek with the side of his thumb. His brother flinched at the touch but didn't pull away.

"I did it because even after everything that has happened between us, I still love him, Kíli," Fíli replied with a sad smile, his blue eyes locked with Kíli's brown. "I don't want to watch him hurt. Least of all by you. And . . . I don't know if you know this, Brother, but you didn't specialize in archery." Kíli looked at him in confusion, what was Fíli talking about? He knew that he was the best archer in Ered Luin . . . if he hadn't specialized in that . . .

"Oh, you're an excellent archer," Fíli added seeing Kíli's confusion, "there's no mistake about that. But that is not your most finely honed weapon." Fíli's thumb traced the path of the wound once more and Kíli suddenly understood what his brother was getting at.

"My tongue," Kíli sighed. "My tongue is my most finely honed weapon. Brother, I—"

"Hush," Fíli replied. "I don't want to hear it again, Kíli. I . . . what you said . . . it hurt me that you could think such things of me, Brother. There is no apology that will fix it, just as there is nothing that I can say to make this wound disappear. There will be scars on both sides of this. Please, even once he's well, do not add to the scars Uncle has to carry for my sake. I know it's not fair but . . . I can endure this, Kíli. I _have _endured it. Can you do this for me, Brother? Can you endure it with me?"

"I . . . I can," Kíli agreed with a sad smile. "If that is what you actually want I will keep my sharp tongue to myself as far as you and Uncle are concerned. If you ever change your mind . . . "

"You will be the first to know, Kíli," Fíli promised. "If I ever want an advocate you will be the first person I turn to. Deal?"

"Deal," Kíli agreed. "Now . . . can you _please_ let me go?" For the first time Fíli realized that the hand of the wrist that he held was trembling. In fact, _Kíli _was trembling and beneath the sadness in his eyes was the hint of fear. Kíli truly did fear him. He released his brother's wrist and watched as Kíli pulled it against him and wrapped his other hand around it almost as if he was cradling an actual wound.

"Kíli . . . I"

"No," Kíli cut him off with a wan smile. "No more apologies between us, Fíli. We've both heard them, it won't do any good to keep going back to them. Let's just . . . we just need to _try_ to . . . we need to give it time." Fíli just nodded. There was nothing else that needed saying. He knew that Kíli was right. They both needed time. Only now that it was over did he realize just how much he had feared that Kíli's tongue would be turned on him once more. There was a fine tremor beginning to go through him as the adrenaline faded. For the first time he realized that Kíli wasn't the only one that feared his brother: Fíli feared Kíli as well. The anger that had been in his eyes . . . Fíli shuddered at the memory.

"Come on," Fíli said with a nod in the direction their uncle had slept, "we should check on Uncle." He moved past Kíli and was surprised to see that his Uncle's eyes were open and he was staring at them with an expression that Fíli could not read. It almost looked like regret. He felt the blood rush from his face as he wondered just how much of their conversation their uncle had overheard.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Thorin drifted painfully into consciousness. For a moment he couldn't remember what had happened that had caused him to hurt so. For half a moment he smiled as the thought crossed his mind that he would have to talk to Dwalin about _not_ beating him black and blue during sparing sessions—all in jest, of course. What good was sparing if either combatant took it easy on the other?—before the sound of raised voices reached his ears and the events of the day before can rushing back to him. He couldn't hear the words but he recognized the voices. Fíli and Kíli. His nephews were arguing again.

_Oh, Mahal __**please**__ let them be just arguing, _Thorin prayed before he forced his eyes open. He watched as Fíli grabbed Kíli's wrist and Kíli whirled to face him. He tried to get to his feet, desperate to separate them before it came to blows but it was beyond his abilities. When Fíli turned away and Kíli's hand shot out, Thorin tried to call out to him to stop, but all that came out was a hoarse croak that did not carry the distance. He was clearing his throat to try again. He knew that if Kíli struck his brother what happened in the clearing might repeat, despite the promise Fíli had given him, but he needn't have worried because Kíli was merely turning his brother's face back towards him.

He watched as both of their postures relaxed, going from tense to defeated before Fíli reached out and stroked Kíli's cheek. He took it as a good sign when Kíli did not pull away. Perhaps he had been right that if he just left them to it they would fix things between them themselves. It looked like they had already made more progress that morning than had been accomplished all day yesterday. He smiled at the sight before him, the first sign that they would be fine. When Kíli curled protectively around the wrist that his brother had held Thorin felt his smile falter. Even if they _would_ be fine they were not there yet. And it was his fault.

Even though part of him knew that the Great Goblin would have done what he did no matter what had been said, Thorin couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he would have just done as Fíli suggested and told the Goblin that they were going to see Dáin. Even if he had been punished for the lie . . . would it have saved his nephews? Especially Fíli. Kíli was injured, that was true enough but Fíli . . . his poor, little, golden Fíli. Kíli would heal but Fíli . . . Thorin looked at his eldest nephew as the boys closed the distance between them and felt nothing but regret for what his own insecurities had done to Fíli. How could he ever apologize for what he had done?

After Balin had left him before the debacle with Fíli's punishment Thorin had thought back over everything that had happened since the boys were born and had realized that Balin was correct: he had been more distant with Fíli than he had with Kíli. He hadn't meant to be. He hadn't even realized that he had done it . . . but he had. Kíli had had an uncle: Fíli a king. He still wasn't sure what he could say to his nephew to explain it but he knew that he had to attempt it. He knew that Fíli knew about the difference but he hoped, selfishly, that Kíli did not.

When they reached his side, Fíli knelt slowly beside him and took one of his hands in his own. "Good morning, Uncle," Fíli greeted him just as he had ever day for as long as Thorin could remember, though that day there was a pain underneath the words that had never been there before and a forced politeness that broke his heart. "How are you today?"

"Morning, Fíli," Thorin croaked back, wincing at the feel of air moving through his ravaged throat. Despite what he had intended he would not be able to explain his mistakes to Fíli that day. "I," he paused to swallow, his dry mouth doing nothing to lubricate his dry throat.

"Hold on," Fíli said gently, patting his hand before releasing it and standing to go towards the packs were he retrieved Thorin's waterskin. He returned and settled back into his place his face twisting in frustration when he couldn't open it with his broken hand.

"Give it here," Kíli sighed kneeling on Thorin's other side. Now that he knew this was how Fíli wanted to play it—as if nothing had happened—he was willing to play his part as the doting nephew even if it made his heart ache to think of what his Uncle had done to his brother, both for years and yesterday in particular. He opened the skin and handed it back to Fíli with a small smile. Fíli nodded in reply before turning his attention back to his uncle and holding the skin up for his uncle to drink, which he did greedily downing half of the skin before Fíli pulled it away.

"That's enough for now, Uncle," Fíli whispered. "The last thing that we need is you making yourself sick."

"No," Kíli agreed with snort. "I doubt that vomiting would do you any good at the moment." Thorin gave a small laugh at Kíli's morbid humor before moaning in discomfort as the motion jarred his injuries.

"Neither does laughing at your words, little one," Thorin replied with a wry smile.

"I'll try to keep the jokes to a minimum then," Kíli replied shortly, resentment flaring within him at the affectionate term. He hadn't even thanked Fíli for getting him water before he was smiling at Kíli for causing him pain. With his new understanding of his uncle's preferences he was having difficulty being near him.

"So," Fíli said suddenly, having sensed his brother's mood and trying to shift the topic of conversation to safer areas, "back to my question: how do you feel today, Uncle?"

"I feel" _like I was tortured for hours and then forced myself to march all day long,_ Thorin finished in his head, knowing better than to say it aloud with Kíli looking at him with such guarded eyes and Fíli with such sad ones. He knew that Fíli felt guilt over his injuries and refused to hurt his nephew by telling the truth.

"I've felt better, lad," Thorin answered honestly. He hated the way that Fíli's face fell. He slowly raised a hand and placed it on Fíli's bearded cheek, unable to contain the grimace of pain that the movement caused him. "However," he added when Fíli looked at him once more, "I have also felt worse. I . . . I am in pain but it is not unbearable." Fíli smiled softly and leaned into his hand just as Kíli had the day before. His heart hurt and his conscience pained him as he saw just how much Fíli cherished that little bit of contact. His face had relaxed, the lines of pain and care disappearing and he looked much younger than he actually was. For a moment Thorin could see the tiny dwarfling he had once been not so long ago. It gave him hope that Fíli would still seek comfort from him after the wrongs that he had done him. Perhaps this could be mended.

Kíli, too, watched his brother's face relax at the comfort that Thorin had offered. Such a little sign of affection and Fíli melted. Suddenly he could be there no longer. Seeing his proud brother contenting himself—no, _reveling_ in such a scrap of the affection that Kíli experienced from their uncle on a regular basis . . . it awoke something vicious in him and he knew that if he stayed there any longer he would break the promise he had just made to Fíli. He had to leave before he did something that they would all regret.

"I'm hungry," Kíli said, his voice cold. "I'm going to go wake up Bombur and see if he will help me with breakfast." He made to stand but stopped with a pained gasp as his bruised back protested the movement. His uncle's hand fell from Fíli's face to grasp his forearm. Kíli pulled away from the touch with a hiss, unable to bear his uncle's hands on him at the moment. Thorin's eyes filled with pain at the rejection and Fíli scrambled for any excuse other than the truth. He had seen Kíli's eyes flash with rage and knew what his brother was actually thinking.

"Did he accidently grab your wound, Kíli?" Fíli asked desperately, his blue eyes begging his brother to go along with the lie. Thorin's eyes widened with understanding and he smiled sadly at Kíli. He had forgotten that Kíli's arm had been cut the day before and that it would pain him to have it touched. Suddenly his nephew's actions made more sense.

"Yes," Kíli agreed hollowly. He rationalized that he wasn't truly lying, by taking his comfort from Fíli to comfort him, Thorin _had_ touched on a recent wound . . . this one on his heart. "He touched it."

"I am so sorry, Kíli," Thorin offered his tone beyond repentant. "I . . . I forgot that it was there."

"Don't worry about it," Kíli said, meeting his uncle's eyes. Thorin flinched at the emptiness he saw there. Maybe he had been wrong in his assumption that Kíli was the least damaged by their recent ordeal. "I'll go see to breakfast." He was prepared for the pain this time and made it to his feet though the effort left him panting.

Fíli stared sadly after his brother. _This_ had been why he had never told Kíli. He knew that Kíli loved him enough that he would turn on whomever had wronged him, even if it was their beloved uncle. Kíli hadn't needed to know. Fíli knew and he had accepted it long ago. There had been no reason to ruin Kíli's relationship with their uncle. He now wished that Kíli had never figured it out. He knew that he wasn't worth all the pain that he was causing. He looked at his uncle at the sound of a deep sigh and saw that he, too, was watching as Kíli walked away.

No matter what Kíli had said about him grabbing the wound, that hadn't been what had caused the coldness in his eyes or the distance in his tone. At first it had confused Thorin but suddenly it clicked into place. Kíli was still angry with him about what he had done the night before. Kíli hadn't forgiven him yet for what he had forced his nephews to relive. Not that he blamed him but . . . Kíli had always been much too quick to forgive for a dwarf. No matter what wrong had been done him, given a night to cool off he was generally himself once more. _He's never been wronged this deeply before_, a voice within Thorin argued. And he had to agree with it. Perhaps Kíli just needed more time. Instead he turned his attention to Fíli, who was gazing down at him with such sad blue eyes that they alone nearly broke his heart anew.

"Fíli," Thorin began slowly in a grave tone as he grasped his nephew's unbound hand in both of his. "We . . . we need to talk about what happened last night." Fíli felt his uncle's words like a punch to the gut. He had known that this was coming but he had hoped that he would have a moment to prepare for it. He _knew_ that his uncle was about to tell him that he was an embarrassment and that he was disinheriting him in favor of Kíli. He felt tears come unbidden to his eyes once more. He didn't want to be disowned.

"Uncle, please," Fíli begged quietly, tears in his voice. His breath coming in pants as the reality of the situation hit home. "_Please_ don't do this! Please!" He flung himself against his uncle in his desperation, feeling remorse flood him when Thorin gasped in pain at the pressure but he did not loosen his hold. "Please," he repeated desperately, his tears flowing once more. "Please don't say it, Uncle. I know that . . . that I'm an embarrassment to you and our line but _please_ don't . . . don't—"

"Hush," Thorin whispered threading one hand into Fíli's messy hair as the other held his nephew against him. He rested his cheek on his nephew's hair and tried in vain to stop his own tears that Fíli could ever think that he would think that of him. Balin was more than correct. He had truly wronged the sweet child that was weeping in his arms and even despite all that he had done to him all Fíli desired of him was approval. He had no idea what he had done to deserve such devotion but he vowed that he would strive to be worthy of it. Fíli would never have cause to doubt his worth to his uncle again.

"Hush," he repeated. "You are _not_ an embarrassment to me. You never could be. I am _so_ _very _proud of you, Fíli. I have been for years. Even when you were a child you showed an inner strength that few grown dwarves possess. And . . . despite it all, all of your skills and abilities, you have managed to stay so kind, so affectionate. No, my lad, I am _not_ embarrassed to call you my kin. You are my beloved sister-son and heir and will remain so to the end of eternity."

"But, Uncle," Fíli argued. "I . . . I wasn't strong yesterday. I . . . I _wept_ in front of our entire company."

"What of it?" Thorin replied. "You were entitled to a few tears among friends and family after what happened yesterday."

"But . . ."

"No," Thorin argued firmly. "You were strong where it mattered, Fíli. In the caves, when everything was on the line . . . you did well, son." Fíli pulled back to look at his uncle at the strange term of endearment. Thorin had never called him that before. It had always been his name or lad. Never 'son' never even "little one" that was for Kíli alone. He had never even called Kíli 'son.'

"But, I . . . I _hurt _you," Fíli sobbed. "I . . . I took a knife and . . . and I . . . I—"

"You did," Thorin agreed his eyes filled with the same pride that had been there in the caves. "You hurt me. You made me bleed." Fíli looked away at the statement only for Thorin to grasp his chin as Kíli had earlier and turn his face back.

"However," Thorin continued seriously, holding Fíli's gaze, "I have never been prouder of you that I was at that moment. You . . . you were _glorious_, Fíli. I have always been proud of you but . . . yesterday," Fíli's eyes widened as his uncle's face took on a soft, tender smile—Kíli's smile, his mother's smile—that was directed at him. "Yesterday you . . . you showed me just the kind of King you will one day be, Fíli. And . . . and even if we manage to retake Erebor . . . your reign will put my own to shame. _You_ will be the King that our people will remember for Ages, son. Not me. You."

Fíli knew that he should feel proud, happy, something! But all that he could feel was shock. His uncle was _proud_ of him. It made no sense. What was there for him to be proud of? He wasn't a warrior of renown. He, yes, he had skills with a blade but . . . he wasn't anything special. Not really. And . . .

"So," Fíli began in a small lost voice, "so you don't wish that Kíli had been the firstborn or that you could name him as your heir?" Thorin recognized the tone. It had been the same one that Fíli had asked so many questions in as a child. Now, however, Thorin recognized it for what it had actually been. It wasn't a request for an answer. It was a request for love and acceptance. Acceptance that had been freely given to Kíli without him having to ask. With a small sob and a deep sigh that made his chest ache, Thorin pulled Fíli back against him as he had before things had changed between them. He fervently wished that he could go back to that time, when Fíli could be cradled against his chest in one arm, and do everything over so that they never needed to come to this.

"Oh, my dear boy," he whispered into Fíli's tawny locks as his own tears fell freely. "My dear, _sweet_, Fíli. I would not trade you for all the gold in Erebor. I love Kíli, just as I love you but . . . there are things I wish that I could change when it comes to my dealings with you but the order of your birth is not one of them. You are a worthy heir, Fíli. I . . . I only apologize that I ever gave you cause to doubt it. There is something . . . a flaw of my own that I must explain to you, my precious nephew. What I have done to you, it is through no fault of your own, Fíli. You have done nothing wrong it is—" Thorin never got to finish his explanation.

"Thorin!" Balin called cutting him off. The white-headed dwarf's eyes were wide with panic. "We need to move. Now!" Thorin sighed exasperatedly.

"This can wait, Balin," Thorin replied. "Leave us for a moment. There are things that Fíli and I need to discuss." Balin shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't used to defying a direct order from Thorin but this was not a normal situation.

"It can't wait, Thorin," Balin said firmly. "There will be time for whatever you and Fíli are discussing later but if we do not go now there may not be a later in which to discuss it."

"What are you—"

"Orcs," Balin replied not missing the panic that flared to life in Thorin's eyes or the way that he unconsciously clutched more tightly at Fíli's arm. Balin felt remorse flood through him, he knew that Thorin had issues when it came to orcs and he hated to bring them up at a time like this, when the tears on Thorin's cheeks revealed the vulnerability he was feeling but it had to be done.

"Orcs?" Thorin breathed disbelief flowing through him. First goblins and now this. Goblins, while a breed of Orc, were a weak cousin to the horror that was an orc. He clutched his nephew to him hating that it had to happen now, when he was unable to wield a sword to protect himself let alone Fíli or Kíli. His mind conjured up bloody images of their bodies lying broken in pools of their own blood, their screams of pain as they died filling his ears. He swallowed convulsively trying to tamp down his panic at the idea of his precious nephews coming into contact with the beasts that still haunted his nightmares. Of Fíli being taken from him before he could apologize properly just as Frerin had.

Fíli felt the increase in pressure and pulled back to see an expression on Thorin's face that he had never seen there before. It almost looked like fear. "Uncle?" he said gently, placing a hand on Thorin's cheek. His uncle looked at him and Fíli flinched away from the nearly blind panic that he saw there before it was forced back down and Thorin looked at Balin from behind the mask of kingship.

"How long before they are upon us?" Thorin asked trying to modulate his voice into something more steady than the panicked squeak that had tried to emerge.

"I'm not certain," Balin replied, "Gandalf just got word from a _bird_ of all things that they set out from Moria late last night." The king breathed a sigh of relief. If they were coming from Moria it was possible that they could avoid them if they moved quickly. Orcs could only move so fast after all. He wondered why they would be coming from Moria in the first place and allowed himself a bit of hope that perhaps they meant to take over Goblin Town and that the presence of him and his company was merely a coincidence. Even he didn't believe it.

"Thorin," Balin said quietly, "they are mounted. It is not just an army of Orcs but they are riding Wargs." Thorin felt his heart sink. They could not outrun wargs, not on foot. Even ponies would have been hard-pressed to do so in this terrain.

"Pack up camp," Thorin ordered grimly. "We will have to cover as much distance as we can before they are free to move again at nightfall. And Balin," Thorin added causing the other dwarf to turn back to him with a confused expression. "Do you know what became of my armor?"

"It's in my pack," Balin replied with a warm smile. He was glad that Thorin was going to see sense about wearing a bit of protection, especially if they were to face an orc hoard mounted on wargs. "I'll have it brought to you. Anything else, My King?"

"Pray," Thorin replied. "Pray that it is not us that they are hunting."

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well . . . yeah . . . sorry about this. I'm a horrible person. :/ I just make you think that I'm going to fix something and then another complication crops up . . . *hangs head in shame* But you all still love me, right?**

**Anyway,**** as always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed.**

**Guest: ****I'm not entirely sure where the final breaking point is either. I think that Fíli and Kíli may have reached theirs and are in the repair stage . . . but I'm not sure and there is still more breaking to happen between them and Thorin before that is done. And I'm not entirely sure about that either. If you can't tell, I'm now flying by the seat of my pants and scrambling to get my feet back under me after a couple unexpected plot twists. I almost feel like these relationships are more like bone than glass though. The places where they broke will repair stronger than they ever were and the weak points will be elsewhere. But as I said . .. I don't really know any more than you do :)**

**That's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	19. Bad News, Rejected Offers and Anger

Kíli and Bombur had already managed to get a fire going and were preparing to begin cooking breakfast when Balin walked up to them, his expression grimmer than either of them had ever seen it.

"Put it out, lads," Balin said with a sigh. "I'm afraid we don't have time for breakfast today. Need to get a move on."

"Without breakfast?" Kíli asked incredulously. "Surely we can spare the time for a meal. Uncle will need a bit to be fully mobile at any rate. He won't be able to travel until he's warmed up a bit. And besides, breakfast will help him heal more quickly."

"Thorin's orders," Balin replied simply. "We're to move out as soon as possible. Go wake the others and pack up."

"What?! Why?" Kíli demanded. He had known that his uncle would try to put off the conversation that he needed to have with Fíli but to deny the entire company breakfast and himself rest to do it . . . was his uncle _truly _so desperate to avoid talking to Fíli? His anger that was beginning to dissipate rushed back in full force that his uncle would continue to brush his brother off after all that had happened.

Balin sighed. He knew that they would know eventually. He may as well be the one to tell them. He knelt down by his own pack to retrieve Thorin's armored shirt before turning back to the young heir who was now glaring daggers in the direction of his brother and uncle.

"If you must know," Balin said sadly, "we're being hunted. A large force of orcs mounted on wargs left from Moria last night and are riding this way. They will be able to move again at nightfall and even if we had no wounded we are not faster than wargs. We need whatever head start we can get if we are to win this footrace. _That_ is why there is no breakfast. Now go wake the others. Tell them what you will but it will do no good to hide the truth from them. They deserve to know that the end may be coming." He saw Kíli's eyes widen in shock and instantly regretted that he had allowed his own worry to make his words harsh. He had forgotten for a moment just how young Kíli was.

"Orcs?" the young dwarf asked in a small choked voice. "Like the ones that . . ."

"Yes," Balin agreed gently. "If we're lucky we will be able to avoid them. Now, go wake the others. Speed is our only chance now." He watched as Kíli turned to go before calling him back.

"Kíli," Balin said and waited until he turned once more before smiling gently and trying to reassure him, "We may be attempting to escape them but if we don't . . . they're just orcs, lad. They bleed and die just like anything else. If we can't escape . . . then we'll fight. It's not as hopeless as I made it seem. We may not have Thorin at the moment but there are still many capable warriors in this company. If it _does_ come to a fight . . . well, if nothing else we'll take many of them with us. Try not to worry too much."

Kíli nodded but didn't reply. He couldn't think of what to say to that. How could he explain to Balin that the very _thought_ of coming face-to-face with something that scared his uncle petrified him? Especially as since the reason that they did not have Thorin fighting fit was because of _goblins._ As if he needed any other reminder what _goblins_ had been capable of when his own wounds still throbbed in time to his heartbeat. The thought of the tortures orcs would be capable of . . . Kíli couldn't even bring himself to consider it. Especially since goblins—who had done more than enough damage to be going on—were only the lesser cousins of orcs. Even the thought of Orcs made his wounds twinge as if they were being inflicted on him anew.

He tried to keep the panic he felt from his face as he woke Bilbo and Bofur but he must have failed because as he shook Bilbo awake the hobbit glanced sleepily at him before his eyes filled with fear and he began to try to scramble away, bringing up his left hand to protect himself. Kíli felt shame go through him as he saw the bruises covering the back of Bilbo's hand. He had done that.

"Bilbo," Kíli said sharply trying to get through the hobbit's panic and calm him. "You're fine. I'm awake. I swear. I'm not going to hurt you, Bilbo!"

"Ah, Kíli," Bilbo said, his panic fading when Kíli began speaking to him in the common tongue. With the panic in the young dwarf's eyes, Bilbo had been worried that Kíli was attacking Bilbo in his sleep once more. "Glad to see you awake." Kíli grinned at him sheepishly.

"Sorry about last night," Kíli offered. "I . . . I didn't mean to frighten you like I did. Or attack you for that matter."

"Is that a normal occurrence for you?" Bilbo asked warily. "Do you usually twitch in your sleep and . . . _whatever_ it was that came after?" Despite himself Kíli laughed.

"The twitching, yes," the young heir said. "Fíli always told me that I twitch too much when I sleep. Threatened to kick me out of bed more than once. He never did, of course. He hasn't slept alone any more than I have. I'm not sure that either of us actually knows how. "

"And the other thing?" Bilbo demanded. "Do you often sit up and assault your bedmates in foreign languages?"

"Khuzdul isn't foreign to _us_, Bilbo," Bofur chimed in, ignoring the glare that the hobbit sent his way. "For us it is normal. It's the common tongue that is a bit foreign, right, Kíli?"

"Right," Kíli agreed looking at Bilbo with sad eyes. "But, no, that is not normal. To my knowledge that is the first time it has ever happened. I am very sorry about it, Bilbo. I can only imagine how scared you were when a crazed dwarf pinned you down and started speaking gibberish. I didn't hurt your hand too badly, did I?"

"It was rather terrifying," Bilbo admitted. "Especially after I slapped you. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Barely felt it," Kíli replied with a wan smile. "What about your hand?" Bilbo flexed it with a grimace before smiling at the young dwarf.

"It hurts but it'll be fine," Bilbo said. "Just a couple of bruises. Nothing too bad. So, can I ask what you were dreaming that I got pulled into?"

"Nothing much," Kíli replied shifting uncomfortably. He didn't want to tell Bilbo that he had been dream-fighting with himself and his family. "Do you want to tell me just how you managed to get out a mangled Khuzdul apology? I know that you haven't picked up any of _those_ words from traveling with us. There wasn't a single curse in there."

"Ah . . . That would be my fault," Bofur said uncomfortably. He wasn't sure how he felt about admitting to the heir of the King that he had fed their language to an outsider—even if it _was_ to save their burglar's life. "You . . . You weren't seeing reason and . . . well . . . you couldn't seem to understand him when he was speaking the common tongue so I . . . well I . . ."

"Helped him talk me down and prevented me from accidently injuring him," Kíli finished with a gentle smile for the toymaker. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone else. It can be our little secret. Though I don't know why you're so worried. It may be a secret language but it's not as if you were giving out lessons to all comers. Bilbo isn't truly an outsider. Not any more. He's been traveling with us for quite some time and Uncle is quite fond of him after his help in the caves and well . . . you did keep me from potentially becoming a murderer. You might even earn a reward if Uncle finds out."

"Even so . . . " Bofur said nervously, the probability of Thorin's ire outweighing the possibility of him _thanking_ Bofur for giving out phrases in Khuzdul. "I would prefer it if we could keep it just between us, if it's all the same to you. Besides," he said with a lopsided grin, "last thing we need is Thorin to give his blessing for Bilbo learning Khuzdul. I don't know if you remember, but his accent is _terrible_."

"It can't have been _that_ bad," Bilbo protested weakly, remembering just how twisted his tongue had felt as he had tried to force out the foreign words that Bofur said with such ease and knowing that it probably had. It hurt his pride. He had always considered himself good with languages but Khuzdul . . . he knew that he was hopeless at it, even so it hurt to be called out on it by his friends.

"It was," Kíli and Bofur both said with a laugh at the disgruntled look on the hobbit's face.

"Dwarves!" Bilbo muttered darkly while rolling up his bedding before standing to move towards Bombur. "I'll just go over here. At least _he_ understands that some skills are more important that being able to pronounce a language with far too many consonants. I'll just help with breakfast. At least _there_ my talents are appreciated."

"I'm afraid you won't, Bilbo," Kíli said sadly, sobering instantly as he remembered what he had come over to them to do. "There's not going to be any breakfast today."

"Why ever not!?" Bilbo snapped put out that not only was he forced to endure the scorn of his friends but was going to have to do it on an empty stomach. "Surely we can take the time for breakfast! Thorin won't—"

"We can't," Kíli replied shaking his head emphatically, his previous panic rushing back with full force. "We need to get moving. We're being hunted."

"Goblins?" Bofur asked with a resigned sigh. He had thought that it would take them longer to get organized after the death of their leader and the swath of destruction that the company had wrought on the way out of the mountain but he supposed that would be just their luck. It seemed lately that the only manner of luck they had was bad luck.

"Worse," Kíli replied sadly, pure fear flooding the depths of his brown eyes once more.

"What could be worse than goblins?" Bilbo demanded with a shudder as he remembered the clawed hands and cruelty of the goblins. He couldn't imagine that there could be anything worse in Middle Earth. True, the trolls had been dangerous but they had also been stupid. The Goblins had been both evil and intelligent. He could not imagine a worse combination.

"There are worse things," Kíli whispered, his breathing coming much too quickly and too shallowly as he allowed the stories he had heard of Orcs to flow through his mind. Of the things that he had heard they did to enemies. Especially to dwarves. There was a fine tremor running through him at the _thought_ of what the orcs would do if they managed to capture them. He knew that it would make what had happened in Goblin Town look like child's play.

"Not Orcs?" Bofur breathed in horror. He had never faced them himself but he had heard more than enough stories of the epic battles between the dwarves and the orcs to know what it was that they were up against if that was what was hunting them. While he controlled his panic better than Kíli, he was no calmer at the prospect of facing orcs.

"Orcs," Kíli agreed in a hopeless tone. Bilbo looked between the two dwarves in confusion. He knew what an orc was but he was not entirely sure how orcs differed from goblins. He had been under the impression that they were the same thing under a different name. He had not been raised on tales of the atrocities of orcs and did not know what it was that might await them. All he knew was that as more of the company was awakened and told of the reason for their abrupt move, he could see varying levels of fear in all of their eyes. That, more than anything else, told him that he should hope that they never came into contact with the orcs.

**ooOO88OOoo**

On the other side of the camp, Thorin was wishing the same thing. Unlike Bilbo and some of the others, he _had_ witnessed the cruelties of the orcs first hand. After Balin had left them, Thorin had pulled Fíli back against him and held his nephew tightly as if by sheer force of will he could ensure that no orc would even touch Fíli. He was stroking Fíli's hair and fighting the urge to curse fate that would allow this to happen before he or his nephews had had a chance to heal from what had happened to them in the caves.

Fíli flinched as Thorin's fingers tightened on his hair, pulling it. From his position against his uncle he could hear the elevated rate of Thorin's heart as he tried to fight against the panic that this new, cruel twist of fate had caused. Fíli lay there, his blue eyes wide in his surprise at the depth of his uncle's response to such a simple word. Fíli knew that orcs were terrible but his uncle had faced them more than once and had come out the other side alive. Surely he was not _this_ afraid of orcs. Even if Fíli instinctively knew that there was no way that his uncle, Thorin Oakenshield, was afraid, that was the only logical explanation for his reaction that Fíli could come up with.

His uncle was scared—no, _terrified_—by the mere mention of orcs. He hadn't known that his uncle was terrified of _anything_. This was an emotion that he had never seen before, nor even heard tell of. _Perhaps it's because he's defenseless_, Fíli though with a sigh. _He's defenseless because of what I did to him. He's about to come face-to-face with a ferocious enemy and is not even able to defend himself. _

"Uncle," Fíli said hesitantly, pulling back to gage his uncle's response to what he intended to say. He wasn't sure, even with Thorin's recent declaration of love, how his uncle would take being called out on his fear or how he would take the offer that Fíli was about to make. When Thorin's hard blue gaze shifted to his face he lost his nerve. He couldn't ask. Not about this.

"Never mind, Uncle," Fíli said moving back to his place kneeling beside his uncle and looking down at his bound hand. It wasn't as if he could carry through with the promise he had been intending to make anyway. With his broken hand he was crippled in a fight. He could only hold one blade. He couldn't even hold a shield or throw knives. He was next to useless as it was. No. Thorin deserved a better protector. Perhaps Dwalin or Glóin. They were battle-tried warriors. They would be able to protect Thorin better than a crippled dwarfling.

Thorin had watched as the cautious hope in Fíli's eyes faded and was replaced by polite distance before Fíli had shut down entirely and moved away from him. It hurt him that Fíli did not think that he could come to him with _any_ concern. He knew that he had no one to blame for the distance between them but himself, but that made it hurt no less. Fíli should never have had cause to worry about what he could say to him. He _should_ have known that nothing he could ever say would upset Thorin . . . or not for long and that he would still love him even if he _was_ upset. But he did not and it was all Thorin's fault.

"What did you want to say to me, Fíli?" Thorin asked gently, attempting to coax his nephew into opening up once more. "I _swear_ to you I will listen. You may speak whatever it is that is troubling you." Fíli looked at him doubtfully and Thorin did his best to smile reassuringly through his own fear and pain. "I swear it on my life, lad, I will not judge you. Are you afraid? It is fine if you are, Fíli. Lack of fear is not what makes a warrior."

"I am," Fíli admitted quietly, as if he were admitting something filthy and disgusting. "I'm afraid, Uncle. But not only for myself." He looked up, his blue eyes soft with love and filled with fear at the same time. "I . . . I'm afraid for you, Uncle, and for Kíli. Both of you . . . you're wounded and . . . in your case it's _my fault_!" Fíli's eyes filled with tears against at his last words and they escaped him in a sob.

"Hush," Thorin soothed. "Come here, Fíli," he lifted his hand slightly and extended it to his nephew. Fíli obliged and once more allowed his uncle to hold him as he wept. "This is not your fault, Fíli. I have said it before and it was no less true then. You had no real choice in this, lad. I _do_ _not _blame you for this, Fíli. _Please_ do not continue to torture yourself with this. I will survive this, Fíli. I promise you."

"I know you will," Fíli said pulling back once more with determination burning through the tears in his eyes. "I will see to it myself. No orc will touch you or Kíli as long as I live. I sw—"

"No! Fíli don't say that!" Thorin said, panic flooding his veins at the promise that Fíli was attempting to make. He could not allow Fíli to swear his life to protect Thorin's. There was no way that he could bear it if his nephew was injured or . . . or killed for his sake. He hated the way that Fíli's face fell, his determination fading under a wave of insecurity, at Thorin's outburst but he refused to take it back. Better Fíli be discouraged than be killed needlessly in an attempt to save his life—not when it was Thorin's job to protect _Fíli_.

"You . . . you don't want me by your side?" Fíli asked in a small, lost voice. "I thought that. . ." he paused and swallowed back his tears. Mentally he berated himself. He _should_ have known better than to think that things would ever change between them, despite what his uncle had said about being sorry for what he had done. He _should_ have known better than to hope that his uncle spoke the truth about the fact that his love for Fíli was no less than his love for Kíli. But the fact that he had allowed himself to help made his uncle's move now only hurt all the more deeply.

"I'm sorry, lad," Thorin said quietly, unable to meet Fíli's eyes and see the pain that he was causing. He knew that his rejection of Fíli's offer would hurt him but . . . he could not bring himself to regret his word if they enabled Fíli to survive the coming attack. It was imperative that he live, even if Thorin fell in the process of ensuring Fíli's survival.

"It is not that I do not want you, Fíli," Thorin said gently. "It is simply that that is a promise that I cannot allow you to make. I _want_ you beside me. It is just that . . . I _cannot_ accept your offer of your life to protect mine. I _am_ sorry, Fíli."

"I'm sorry as well, _Uncle_," Fíli spat shooting a glare at Thorin, his pain at his uncle's newest rejection and his anger at himself for daring to hope twisting and targeting his uncle. "Sorry that I am not the brother that you prefer. I'm sorry that it was Kíli and not I that was wounded in the caves and that I am the only one of your heirs in any position to make such an offer."

"Fíli," Thorin sighed realizing for the first time how Fíli had taken his words and trying desperately to fix his error before he lost Fíli once more. "That is not what I meant, lad. If you will just _listen_—"

"Why?!" Fíli demanded gesturing angrly. "So that you can tell me _more_ lies, Uncle? So that you can allow me to _hope_ that you _might_ . . . No. I'm done listening." Thorin's heart broke at the pain and anger in Fíli's words. He briefly wondered what had happened to the dwafling that had had such unshakable trust in him—that _knew_ that Thorin would _never_ lie to him—before remembering that _he_ had been the one to break that trust and push Fíli away. _He_ was the reason that Fíli now thought him capable of lying to him. _He_ was the reason Fíli was in such pain now. His mistakes and reservations had brought for the very thing that he had been trying to prevent: Fíli hated him.

"Fíli, please," Thorin began as Fíli climbed to his feet and prepared to walk away. "_Please_ just listen to what I have to say. _Please!"_

"No, Uncle," Fíli replied with a sad smile. "I love you but I will not listen to your lies. I . . . I can't bear it. I _cannot_ bear for you to pretend that I matter as much to you as Kíli does. Not now. Please. Just . . . just don't. Not now."

"They are _not_ lies, lad," Thorin said desperately. "If you will just allow me to explain!"

"I don't want to hear it, Uncle," Fíli said with a sad laugh. "I'm not sure what you think you can say that you believe will make up for what has passed between us in the past eighty years but . . . I . . . I don't want to hear it." Before Thorin could respond, Balin was there carrying Thorin's armor.

"Here you are, Thorin," Balin said with a wide grin, oblivious to the tense situation he had just walked into blinded by his relief that Thorin had seen sense. "Let's get you to your feet and dressed." He bent to help his King up but Thorin shook his head.

"No," Thorin replied firmly. "I did not have you bring it for me. My position has not changed since yesterday. I cannot wear it, Balin. I had you bring it for Fíli. I ask that you help Fíli into it in my stead."

"Uncle," Fíli sighed exasperatedly. They had already discussed this the day before. Fíli had already refused to wear it. His opinion on the matter had not changed either. Kíli was the favorite. He would always be the favorite and he was injured. It only made sense to protect him from harm. If Thorin would not wear it, Kíli should.

"This is not a request, lad," Thorin said coolly. "It's an order, from either your uncle or your king. Take it as you will but you _will_ allow Balin to put that armor on you if I have to have you restrained to make it happen." Fíli glared at his uncle for a moment before his anger and indignation faded and bitter resignation took their place before he offered Thorin a mock bow.

"As my _king_ commands," Fíli whispered before turning to Balin, rage seething in his eyes once more and holding his arms out to his sides like a scarecrow with a mirthless smile twisting his features. "You heard him, Balin," he said sarcastically. "We've received a _royal_ decree. Who are we to defy something like that?" Balin sighed and glanced at Thorin with a look that clearly said 'Now see what you've done,' before he moved forward and helped Fíli into Thorin's armor. It was too large and quite a few adjustments needed to be made before Fíli was even remotely comfortable in it—and even then he felt abnormally heavy and slow—but they did eventually get it worked out. Once they were done, Fíli shot one final scathing look at his uncle before he moved away to collect his things in preparation of moving out.

Balin watched him go with sad eyes before he turned his attention to Thorin and began the slow process of helping the wounded King to his feet. It took many stops and curses but they eventually managed to get Throin upright.

"No offence," Balin said once they were done, "but I think that you may have just destroyed whatever progress you had made with him." Rather than respond in anger, Thorin sighed wearily.

"I know that I did," Thorin replied eventually as he watched Fíli angrily struggle to roll his bedding with one hand. "But I _cannot_ lose him, Balin. Not to orcs. If angering him is what it takes to save his life . . . well, it is a price that I will gladly pay." Balin sighed. He wanted to tell Thorin that he had already lost his nephew due to his own stupid mistakes even if Fíli _was_ still alive but he did not have the heart to twist the knife in the wound. He knew that Thorin was already aware of the damage that had been done and no amount of pointing it out would make it any better. So instead, Balin said nothing more on the subject.

"I really _should_ have a look at your wounds and change your bandages before we move out," Balin said with a sigh. He had no real desire to see the damage that had been carved into Thorin's skin but knew that they could not allow it to go untreated for long. Even if they had taken care the day before, it was possible that due to the sheer volume of their King's injuries they had missed one or even that Thorin's exertions the day before had done damage to their work that would need tending.

"We have no time," Thorin replied stubbornly. "I will slow us down enough as it is. I will not risk all of your lives by wasting time retending my own wounds. They have already been closed and cleaned. They will be fine until we are in a better position to take time out for them."

"Thorin," Balin said, "I know that it will take time that we do not have but . . . if they become infected that will take longer. Let me look at them. I'll be quick about it."

"No," Thorin said, his tone making it clear that he would hear no more on the matter. "You can look at them once we are safe. I will alert you at the first sign of infection. I will feel it long before it becomes dangerous."

"Whatever you say, Thorin," Balin agreed reluctantly. He only hoped that Thorin would keep his promise. The last thing that they needed was to be forced to tend to an infection ridden King in the middle of nowhere with an orc pack on their tails.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all . . . a new chapter that totally tears apart all the fixing I did in the last one :( I know, I know . . . I suck :D But you all still love me, right? Oh and by the way . . . Do ya'll still think the title fits? It did at first by now . . . I don't know. What do you think?**

**As always, thank you to all of you that have favorited or added this one to your alerts.**

**And an extra special thank you to those of you that reviewed!**

**Guest:**** I'm glad that you enjoyed the timeliness and the length :) I occasionally pull that off. I haven't actually read that, but I think that I will have to now :) And I would totally agree with that, parents do damage their children somehow, some are just better at minimizing it than others :) And I've been thinking a lot about forgiveness lately as well :) Perhaps that's why this figures so prominently into this story. As to the religion thing, I'm in the same boat as you. I know the stories quite well even if I do not identify with a religion :) and that is an impossible number to reach even with our life-spans. Forgiveness is HARD! It is hard to forgive the hurts others have caused and even if you do it takes time to rebuild the lost trust. (hence this story . . . which may need a new title . . . )**

**Well, that's all for now so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined. I would LOVE to know what you thought of it (****especially**** if there was something that you hated)**

**Stickdonkeys**


	20. Frustration, Understanding & Heartbreak

Fíli let out a growl of frustration as he tried to secure his bedroll to his pack with one hand. It was impossible. Even using his teeth he could not manage to tie a secure enough knot with just one hand so that it did not shift. He felt a small sob attempt to rise up his throat at the small failure. He knew that it was foolish to allow something so small to upset him so greatly but it seemed that all he was capable of lately was failure. Not that that was anything new, not to his uncle. He had been failing Thorin for as long as he could remember. The only difference was that now everyone could see his mistakes and inabilities laid bare for them. With another small sob he began again to attempt to tie his bedroll to the pack as his thoughts took a decidedly dark turn.

The thought of everyone turning on him like Kíli had terrified him—he knew that he could not bear it if the entire company came to hate him for his failings—and his fear fed into the rage and pain that he felt from his uncle's newest rejection of him. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to hate his uncle or blame Thorin for his own pain. Fíli_knew_ that his pain was his own fault. If only he had been better, smarter, _worthier_ then, perhaps, his uncle wouldn't have rejected him. After all, why would his uncle want him as a protector when he couldn't even tie a knot and there were so many flaws in his skills when he was whole and well? No, he was not angry with his uncle for choosing to have someone more skilled at his side, he was angry with himself for daring to hope that things were going to change.

He felt a hint of the blind rage that he had felt the day before begin to stir in him and was suddenly terrified of what he might do. It wasn't his uncle's threat that hung over his head. He still felt that losing his beard was no less than he deserved for what he had done to Kíli. No what terrified him was that he had seen yesterday what he was capable of. He had seen just how much he was able to hurt those he loved and it terrified him. More than the orcs that now pursued them he was terrified of himself. He was more dangerous to his friends and family than any pack of orcs could ever be. At least with the orcs they knew there was danger, with him . . . he was unstable and there was little warning before he snapped. What if he managed to actually kill someone this time?

With a panicked sob he threw his bedding from him and began to claw at the ties holding his uncle's armor in place. Even though it was actually too large, it suddenly felt as though he could not breathe. It was too tight, the pressure of the protection that he did not deserve crushing him. He felt guilt rise within him. His uncle had forced him into the armor and in the process taken protection from Kíli and himself to protect his unworthy heir. His uncle's action of protecting him made no sense to him and his confusion only caused him more pain as he tried to force it all to make sense. His uncle's words . . . forcing his armor onto Fíli . . . they merged together and caused Fíli to _hate_ the armor in a way that he was unable to bring himself to hate his uncle. He hated it for being a constant reminder of the lies that he had believed, the hope he had allowed himself to have. It was all too much for him. He fisted his good hand in his hair and pulled, trying to regain control of himself but it was a battle that he was losing.

He could feel his control slipping and _knew_ that he was about to lose himself to the rage once more. He wasn't sure if he could come back from it this time. Last time, Kíli had been the target but this time he was livid with himself. How could he find resolution with himself? His breath was coming in ragged pants as his panic intensified. He was losing himself. Suddenly there was a small voice. It said his name, nothing more but that was all he needed. Something in his mind recognized that voice and the love and concern it contained and he clung to it amidst the storm that was his conflicting emotions and allowed it to ground him.

After what felt like an eternity but was only actually a few short moments, Fíli managed to force the rage away and opened his eyes to see Kíli's concerned brown eyes looking at him. His brother was standing just out of arms' reach with his head tilted slightly to the side surveying him as he had so many times before when Fíli did or said something that Kíli did not understand.

"K-Kíli?" Fíli panted looking up at him and wiping at the tears that he could feel on his cheek in embarrassment. He mentally berated himself for crying over such a little thing. It had been a _bedroll_ that had triggered his tears. All he could feel was shame.

"Are you alright," Kíli asked watching his brother cautiously, unsure of what to expect from Fíli after his outbursts the day before. When Fíli looked up at him, feelings of betrayal visible in his blue eyes, Kíli raised his hands cautiously and began backing away to give Fíli the space that he clearly needed.

"I was just coming to check on you," Kíli said quickly, his voice quivering with fear, as he retreated. "I . . . I saw you storm away from Uncle and I thought . . . well I thought that you might need someone to . . . to talk to. I see that I was wrong and I-I-I'll just leave you be."

"No," Fíli whispered, the single word broken. The disconsolate tone of Fíli's voice broke Kíli's heart. He wondered just what had passed between his brother and uncle after he had left but felt rage coil within him that Thorin had broken Fíli even more than he had already been. Did their uncle truly dislike Fíli so much that he could not even _pretend_ that he cared for him when it was clear that Fíli needed him? Kíli had never seen Fíli so broken, so defeated, in his entire life. It hurt him to see his proud, strong brother in such a state.

"'No' what, Fíli?" Kíli asked feeling more like a child than he had in years at the helplessness that he felt watching his brother suffer. Worse still was the knowledge that he could do nothing to end Fíli's suffering but at that moment he would have done _anything_ if he thought that he could. His eyes went wide in shock as he realized that this was how Fíli must have felt in the Goblin Caves_. Oh, Mahal, no!This was how Fíli had felt and then I_ . . . Kíli's thoughts stopped there, unable to put into words just how horrified he was at what he had actually done to his brother. The blood drained from his face as he realized just how deeply he had wounded his brother and his knees went out from under him as he bowed under the weight of his actions.

"Kíli?!" Fíli cried, forcing his own thoughts down as he watched his brother pale and fall to his knees where he stayed, staring at the ground with wide, unseeing eyes. "Kíli!" he tried again to get his brother's attention as he scrambled across the ground and began checking Kíli for new wounds. There was nothing, no arrow, no dagger . . . he felt panic begin to grip him once more at the fear that Kíli was suffering from some internal damage that they had not been able to see and that he was only just succumbing to.

"Kíli!" he said once more, grabbing his brother's face between his hands—ignoring his own pain in his fear for his brother—and tilting it up towards him. "Please, Kee, tell me what's wrong!" The use of the petname that Fíli only ever used when it was just the two of them seemed to snap Kíli from his shock and he drew a shuddering breath before meeting Fíli's fear-filled blue eyes.

"Fíli I . . . Oh, Mahal!" he exclaimed before throwing himself at his brother and tangling his hands in Fíli's hair and burying his own face in his brother's neck as tears of remorse freely fell. "Fíli . . . Fee . . . I . . . I'm so sorry. I . . . I . . ." In his grief, Kíli's mind shut off and the only language that came to mind was Khuzdul. He didn't even seem to notice that he had shifted as he continued his apology.

"_I can't believe that I could do that to you, Brother," _Kíli sobbed in Khuzdul. "_I . . . I was __**stupid**__ and __**selfish**__ and . . . If you can't forgive me I understand but please,__**please**__ let me stay by you. I will make up for it however I can just don't . . . don't push me away Fíli. I know that I'm being selfish again but . . ." _At that point Kíli lost all coherence and took to sobbing broken words in Khuzdul.

"What's going on here?" Dwalin asked suddenly and Fíli head shot up only to find the entire company staring down at them in confusion. He shook his head as he gazed up at them, panic and shock written into his face.

"I . . . I don't know," Fíli breathed. "I was frustrated with my pack and he came over to help and then . . . I don't know! He . . . he just collapsed and started sobbing. I don't know what happened!" He glanced around wordlessly begging for one of them to help him console Kíli. He didn't know what to do. He had never seen his brother like this before.

Thorin couldn't stand the pain in Fíli's eyes as he looked at his brother and decided that he would try to do what he could, even if he knew that Fíli did not want him anywhere near him. With Balin's aid, he knelt beside them and placed a gentle hand on Kíli's arm, knowing that there was no wound there, and squeezed it.

"Kíli," he said, a note of command in his tone that Kíli had always responded to before. "Kíli, look at me." When he complied, Thorin wished that he hadn't. There was such anger burning in the depths of Kíli's eyes that Thorin had only ever seen directed at one other: the Goblin King. "Kíli?" Thorin breathed, his tone questioning and more vulnerable than any of them had ever heard from him before as he was faced with the hatred of his youngest nephew.

"_How could you?" _Kíli hissed, his emotion still making it impossible for him to form words in the common tongue. "_How could you?!" _he released his hold on Fíli to turn to glare fully at his uncle.

"Kíli, **NO**!" Fíli shouted trying to put a hand over his brother's mouth to silence the words that he knew were coming. "Don't do it! Kíli, you promised me! Kee! You promised!" He missed his mouth but managed to get a hand on his cheek and turned Kíli's face back to him rather than their uncle. "Please," Fíli begged in little more than a whisper. "Don't do this, Kee. It's not worth it." _**I'm**__not worth it_, he mentally finished.

Despite himself, Kíli felt his anger begin fade at Fíli's pleading. Now that he knew what he had done to his brother he could deny Fíli nothing. With a sigh, he nodded and allowed the blinding rage to dissipate leaving him unexpectedly tired and slightly numb. The sadness in Fíli's eyes was too much for him to bear and he did the only thing that he could think of: he pulled his brother into an embrace, cradling Fíli's head against his chest as he had when they were upset as children and resting his cheek on the top of his brother's hair as Fíli's arms gently wound around his chest.

"I'm sorry, Fee," Kíli whispered. "I'll try to remember in the future." He felt Fíli nod against him but neither of them said anything else. Fíli allowed Kíli to hold him but in the back of his mind he wondered if he was worthy of the love Kíli was showing him now. But he pushed that thought away. More pressing at the moment was his concern over just how long this new swing of Kíli's feelings would last. How long would it be before Kíli turned on him again?

Thorin watched as Fíli talked Kíli down and as Kíli clung to his brother, his posture clearly one of someone defending fallen kin. Thorin had seen that posture countless times on the battlefield but never had either of his nephews demonstrated it before. There had never been a need. And Thorin had to wonder what had sparked it now. Who did Kíli think that he was protecting Fíli _from_? The hatred in Kíli's eyes suddenly flashed through his mind and Thorin went numb as he realized that he may have lost them both. Kíli knew. The questions, the hatred . . . Kíli _knew_. Even though Thorin knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Kíli knew of his greatest failing with Fíli, he had to make sure.

"Kíli?" Thorin said softly, the tone gentle, pleading-one that, once more, none had ever heard from him before. Kíli's brown eyes flicked to meet Thorin's blue ones and what he saw there broke his heart. In his youngest nephew's eyes was the same pain and anger and disappointment that had been in Frerin's all those years ago. For the first time, Thorin realized the true severity of what he had done. Because of his own insecurities and shortcomings he had not only lost Fíli, but also Kíli and most likely Dís once she found out what he had done to her eldest son. His sister loved him but, as was proper, her boys came first. When she learned of what he had put them through . . . he would be fortunate if she spared his life, let alone ever spoke to him again.

"Balin?" Thorin said looking up at his oldest friend, the pain and vulnerability he was feeling unmasked in his face and in his tone. "Help me up?" Thorin ordered softly, the tone lacking the ring of command and making the order more of a weak request. "We need to move out."

"Of course, Thorin," Balin replied, pity in his dark eyes as he gazed down at his King who was now broken not only physically but mentally as well, the certainty in which he had lived his life having been shattered by Kíli's anger. With a jerk of his head, Balin called Dwalin over to assist him. Thorin let out a small gasp of pain as their hands touched him, the extent of his injuries making avoiding them all impossible, and another small, almost plaintive noise of discomfort left his throat as they pulled him to his feet. Rather than brush them off once he was standing, as he had before, this time Thorin held them in place, resting some of his weight on them as the waves of pain washed over his body.

Kíli's anger had not only broken his heart but his resolve as well. It had broken _him_. The sheer force of will that had enabled him to push back his own pain for the good of the company and his nephews was gone and in its place was only the truth. Thorin was in excruciating pain and it had all been for nothing. He _knew_ that there was no way that either of his boys would ever look on him with love again. Fíli had been right earlier when he had said that there was nothing that Thorin could say to make up for what he had done. What he most feared had come to pass. He was alone in the world and it was his own fault.

He glanced around at the averted eyes of his company. He knew that they had looked away in an attempt to preserve his pride but he could have told them that they needn't have bothered. There was nothing left of his pride to preserve. And even if there was, he was undeserving of their courtesy after the wrongs he had committed against his own family time and again.

"Thorin?" he heard Balin ask from beside him and turned his head listlessly to look at his friend. "Shouldn't we be moving out?" Thorin nodded sharply and tried to force his pain back behind the shattered wall that used to be his iron will and tried to stand a bit straighter as he surveyed the company once more.

"Move out," Thorin ordered. "It'll be a hard march, lads, but better that than a sword through the back, eh?" There were curt nods of approval as the company broke apart to shoulder packs and gather together the last of their things. "Let's get a head start," Thorin said with a sad smile to Balin and Dwalin. "I'm going to need it."

Once the three of them had left the clearing, Bilbo looked up at Bofur and whispered, "What just happened?" The hobbit wondered if he had missed something that had some cultural significance to them-like the thing with Fíli's beard-that had upset their leader so or if perhaps what Kíli had said had done it. Secret language or no, Bilbo decided that he would have to try to pick up some of it. There had been far too much conversation that he could not understand lately for his tastes.

After too long had passed without an answer Bilbo repeated his question. "Bofur," he said waiting for the dwarf to turn to him before he asked again. "What just happened?"

"I don't know," Bofur replied shaking his head. "Didn't make any sense. Maybe it's a revisit of an old family squabble. There is one thing that I _do_ know." Bilbo looked up hopefully, thinking that he was about to get some insight into what he had just witnessed that might explain why Thorin had looked so broken. His hopes were dashed as Bofur spoke once more.

"The one thing I do know is that whatever just happened between the three of them . . . It wasn't good," Bofur said with a sad glance at Thorin's retreating back and at the way the King still leaned on Dwalin as he limped along. "Not good at all," he added darkly.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Hi *chuckles nervously* so . . . new chapter . . . . . . Please don't kill me! I swear it'll get better . . . I think . . . anyway if you kill me now this is where it stays so . . . **

**That said, I hope you enjoyed it from a technical perspective if a content perspective is impossible though I do think that if you have made it this far you just thrive on angst so . .. yeah :)**

This time I have a QUESTION for you: For the next two weeks I am going to be writing like a madwoman to try to get as much done on these stories as I can before school starts up the first week of June. After it does updates will become much more sporadic (it's an accelerated program that compresses 2 years of study into 9 months. What would be a normal semester is now crammed into 8 weeks and well . . . that's a lot to do and very little time to do it) Here's where the question comes in. Do you want me to post as I get it done and get a mass amount of uploads in the next two weeks and then potentially silence for a while or would you rather that I hold them and give out a chapter (or two) a week? I think I prefer the spread out method but will do it whichever way is the most popular on each of my stories. I do want happy readers after all ;D. So vote for you choice in the reviews!

That said, as always, thank you to all of you that have favorited or added this one to your alerts.

And an extra special thank you to those of you that reviewed!

guest: I believe that was an update plea? Yes? If it was, see, an update!

Well, that's all for now so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined. I would LOVE to know what you thought of it (especiallyif there was something that you hated)

Stickdonkeys


	21. Resentment, Hoplessness, Aid and Doubts

"Kíli?" Fíli whispered trying to pull free of his brother's hold. "Kíli, we need to get moving. The orcs, Kíli." Reluctantly the dark-haired brother released his sibling and sat back on his heels and looked at Fíli with infinite sadness in his eyes before he turned away and picked up Fíli's pack and bedroll from where he had tossed them. With nimble fingers, he tied the knots that his brother had been unable to and handed the pack back to Fíli, his eyes now begging for the forgiveness that he knew he did not deserve. Fíli took it from him and set it in his lap before he reached for his brother.

Kíli saw Fíli's hand come up and flinched away closing his eyes as he anticipated the blow that he knew was coming. He didn't even try to block it. He knew that it was less than he deserved for what he had done to Fíli. He opened his eyes warily when, instead of striking him, Fíli gently cupped his cheek and wiped away a tear. He was surprised by his brother's gentle smile and confused by it. Why was Fíli smiling at him? How could he after what Kíli had done to him? That had been beyond vile and . . . unforgivable.

"I thought we agreed that there would be no more apologies between us, Brother. That included you," Fíli said with a small laugh before he pulled back to position his pack and stood, offering Kíli a hand up. Even if he did not trust this new mood to last, he was sure of one thing. The foul moods would not last either. Kíli loved him. Before the quest he would have said that Kíli loved him unconditionally but now he knew that it was untrue. But that was fine with him. He did not see where he was worthy of unconditional love and even if it was dependant on him behaving as he was expected to, Kíli _did_ love him. There was only one person in the world who loved him as much, if not more than, Kíli did and that was his mother. She was beyond reach. Kíli was here. As imperfect as his love was, it was still love and Fíli would take what he could get.

"We did," Kíli agreed, wiping the last remaining tears from his eyes with the back of his hand and taking the help that Fíli offered—willing to admit that he needed it. "I just . . . I figured that I owed you one more. Now that I realize what I actually did to you. Fíli I really am—"

"No more, Kíli," Fíli said firmly, placing a hand over his mouth to stop his words. "I don't want to hear any more apologetic words from family today. Words can be lies. If you want me to believe that you are truly sorry, _show_ me. Don't tell me. Show me. Don't promise me that you will never do it again. Just don't do it. And I will do the same for you. My lack of assaults on your person will be my proof of my regret for having done it in the first place. Deal?"

"Deal," Kíli agreed reluctantly. He wasn't sure that he could do it. He wasn't sure that he could prevent himself from _ever_ snapping at his brother again and he knew that the first time he did he would break the promise he had just made and lose Fíli forever. Just as he had lost his uncle moments before. He had seen Thorin's pain at his anger but he still could not bring himself to care. He knew that he probably would later but the pain of his discovery of what Fíli had suffered through for so long in silence was still too fresh. His guilt over having not seen it and tried to do something about it too great. He _knew_ that he should catch up to his uncle and attempt to talk to him but he couldn't see how he could do it _and_ keep his first promise to Fíli at the same time. What he didn't realize was that even if he had never said the words that Fíli had asked him not to, his glares had had the same affect. Thorin knew that Kíli knew what happened between Thorin and Fíli and that Kíli was not pleased with it. He could not have hurt Thorin more _had_ he ignored Fíli's pleas and broken his promise.

Fíli did. Fíli realized that by stopping his brother a second time he had not actually stopped him from hurting their uncle. He couldn't help but be a bit angry with Kíli for doing it. He understood why he did . . . sort of. He understood that Kíli was angry _for_ him but he couldn't help but feel that for all Kíli's fine words about not turning on family ever again he had gone and done it once more. Only this time instead of Fíli it had been their uncle that Kíli had disowned in all but name.

As he, Kíli, Bilbo and Bofur set out after the company, he allowed his mind to wander rather than try to focus on the conversation the other three were having—something about Bilbo being an honorary dwarf?—but he was still irritated by their banter in light of what had just happened. Had they missed the entire last day's worth of events? Had they missed all the pain and fear and tension? Had they missed just how hurt his uncle had been by what Kíli had just done not even a day after their uncle had been prepared to sacrifice his health and his life for Kíli's? Did the pain Thorin was still experiencing from his wounds—both physical and emotional—mean nothing to any of them?

Bilbo he could almost understand. Nothing seemed to upset him for long and he was not near as close to Thorin as the rest of them were. By that token Bofur could be forgiven as well. He did not really _know_ Thorin. Not like Fíli and Kíli did. No one did except for their mother. So perhaps it hadn't been so obvious to him just how deeply Kíli had wounded their uncle, but Kíli . . . there was no excuse for his levity in light of his recent actions. Kíli had no excuse for joking with them moments after he had ripped their uncle's heart from his chest.

At the sound of Kíli's laughter an image of his uncle's stricken face as Kíli had turned on him only moments before filled his mind and suddenly Fíli was _furious_ with Kíli. He wanted nothing more than to grab him and pin him against the nearest tree and _demand_ to know what right Kíli thought he had to interfere in Thorin and Fíli's business after what he had done the day before? After he had _disowned_ Fíli? He wanted to tell him that his words in the cave had done more damage that any of their uncle's "mistreatment" had and that if Kíli wanted to berate anyone for their treatment of Fíli it should be himself. _He_ wanted to tell Kíli that he was vile and that no brother of his could ever have spoken to someone who had been as kind to him as Uncle had been—who had protected, cared for and _loved_ him so well for his entire life—in such a way. He wanted to take all of Kíli's words the day before and throw them back in his face and make _Kíli_ feel as worthless as Kíli had made him feel . . . but at the same time he didn't. He loved his brother and didn't want to cause him the same kind of pain that Kíli had caused him. So, instead of turning _on_ Kíli, he turned away from him.

With a feral grow deep in his throat, Fíli sped up. Nearly doubling his pace in an effort to move up the column and put some distance between him and his _brother_.

"Fíli?" Kíli called, his eyes going wide at the sudden change in his brother's demeanor. Only a moment ago he had been calm and sad and now anger was radiating from him just as it had the day before. The mood swing scared Kíli and he wanted nothing more than to put as much distance between them as he could, the cut on his cheek flaring to painful life as he recalled the last time Fíli had made such an abrupt mood swing, but instead he stood his ground and attempted to face up to whatever mistake he had made to upset his brother this time. He owed Fíli that much. If they were ever going to fix this he couldn't run every time his brother showed the slightest sign of displeasure. Even if he wanted to.

"Leave me be, Kíli," Fíli snapped without bothering to turn around. "I don't want to talk to you at the moment." Even though every instinct that Kíli had told him to run to Fíli and cling to him and demand that they talk this out as he always had . . . well, that hadn't ended well for either of them yesterday. So rather than do as he had always done, Kíli did as he was told. His shoulders drooping with defeat and a deep sigh leaving his chest before he was able to speak.

"Alright," Kíli whispered unable to look at Fíli as he agreed, feeling that he was abandoning his brother to suffer alone. "I'm here if you change your mind, Brother. You can _always_ talk to me. I'll still be here when you're ready." Fíli felt shock break briefly through the rage at Kíli's ready acceptance of his request followed by guilt for what he had done that had caused the change in his brother which morphed back into anger that Kíli was able to make him feel guilty even when he was so angry with him. With his anger turned on Kíli once more, Fíli moved up the line of dwarves in search of his uncle to attempt to provide him what little comfort he could as the least-favored of his kin. Some small part of his mind registered that they moved out of his path rather hastily and felt remorse that they were afraid of him but the greater part was pleased that they were not impeding his path to his uncle.

He reached them just as Thorin took a bad step and stopped with a gasp, gripping Dwalin's arm tightly enough that his knuckles stood out white against his skin. Dwalin winced at the pressure his friend was putting on his arm but said nothing. Instead he endure in silence as Thorin breathed heavily through his nose attempting to keep from crying out as he rode out the newest wave of pain. Dwalin may have been angry with Thorin for what he had done to Fíli but he could not turn his back on Thorin and leave him to suffer through Kíli's rejection alone. He knew just how much the lads meant to his king and knew just how deeply Kíli's glares had cut. Again, Dwalin felt that he and the youngest heir to the throne needed to have a little _discussion_ on proper ways to behave towards family as Fíli's lesson clearly hadn't taken.

"I'm sorry, Thorin," Balin said, his own pain at watching Thorin try to continue apparent in his voice and his eyes. "You _have_ to keep moving. I know this is difficult but—"

"What's the point?" Thorin demanded harshly, turning to glare at his cousin with pain and hopelessness in his eyes. "Why?" he asked in a quieter, defeated voice. "Why should I force myself to endure this? Tell me why, Balin."

"Because there are orcs coming, Thorin," Dwalin said simply. "We need to put some distance between them and us and _that_ means _you_ need to walk. Unless you've rethought your position on being carried."

"I can't bear to be touched," Thorin snarled turning on Dwalin with pain and anger in his eyes that his friend would suggest such a thing, especially when he was feeling so wounded and vulnerable, and attempting to cover up what he was feeling under the mask of the indignant king. Even he could hear that he lacked the steel necessary to make the ruse work. But he continued all the same. Perhaps if they believed it he could bring himself to believe it. If they were convinced perhaps he could convince himself that he was still in control. That he still knew what to do. That he wasn't entirely out of his depth. He allowed his feelings of being lost to feed into rage—attempting to push them away before they saw his weakness—and his next words came out much stronger, more like himself.

"What in Durin's name makes you think I could bear to be carried?" Thorin demanded. "Besides, I am neither a child nor an invalid." The two brothers shared a look but did not argue with their King even though at the moment he _was_ an invalid. They could see just how much he needed to win this argument and could not be the ones to break what little of him was left. They knew that all it would take would be to call him on his invalid status and neither of them would be the one to do it.

"Then you need to walk," Dwalin said with a disinterested shrug. "You either walk or one of use carries you. Those are you options, Thorin. Pick one."

"You missed an option," Thorin countered bitterly. "You lot can go on without me. You'll stand a better chance of outrunning the orcs without me slowing you down. It's not like I'll be of any use in a fight anyway. I'm not of any use to anyone. You should leave me."

"We didn't miss one because that's not an option, lad," Balin said stubbornly. "You are our King and our kin. We won't abandon you."

"Some King I am," Thorin scoffed his mask slipping away to reveal the pain underneath again at the invocation of his status as both King and kin. "And some kin as well. I have failed them, just as I have _always_ failed my family. I can't even take care of _them_, Balin. If I can't take care of two boys who am I to think that I can rule an entire people. No, it would be better if you leave me here and let Fíli rule. _He_ at least has sense. He won't allow his past mistakes to haunt him and cause him to ruin more lives. He would be a better King that I am."

"Thorin," Balin sighed exasperatedly. "We have had this conversation before, Cousin." It wasn't often that Balin evoked his familial relation to his king but he knew that this was one of those times that it was necessary. "You are not a bad King, Thorin. Or a bad Uncle. You have done well by our people and by those lads. You may have wronged Fíli but you were never cruel to him. He may not have had the same intimacy that you allowed Kíli or Dís but he knows that you do not hate him, Thorin. He has to. As you said, he has sense."

"They would beg to differ, Balin," Thorin said despondently. "_They _think that I was cruel to him. And I agree. I _was_ cruel to him. It was cruel of me to give Kíli only love while I forced responsibilities on his young shoulders, just as my father and fate forced them on me. I did not even offer him support in shouldering them. I just piled them on him and when he did not fold under the pressure continued to add to them until I broke him. It wasn't the Goblin that broke him, Balin. It was me. I put too much pressure on him and he eventually shattered under the responsibilities. Responsibilities I never asked Kíli to even attempt to bear." For the first time Thorin realized that he had done Kíli an injustice as well through his favoritism. By sheltering him, Kíli had missed out on many of the life lessons that he would need if he was to rule. If Thorin and Fíli died . . . Kíli . . . he would be as out of his element as Thorin currently was. He didn't even know if Fíli and Kíli had realized that yet and a selfish part of him hoped that they never did. He flinched as Balin tapped his face to get his attention—thinking Thorin lost to memories once more.

"That is traditional, Thorin," Balin said, his tone making it clear that he had already said it more than once. "Elder siblings _always_ have more responsibilities. I had more responsibilities than Dwalin ever did. And with Fíli more so than most it would be true. Most older siblings do not also have to prepare to rule a kingdom in addition to keeping up with their siblings." _And most siblings are not as troublesome as Kíli_, Balin added silently not wanting to say anything against Thorin's nephew with his King's current mood.

"Tradition does not make it right," Thorin argued darkly. "And even if it did, there was no cause for me to deny him love and affection while fostering heavy responsibilities on him. He . . . he is _starved_ for affection, Balin. You. . . you didn't see. All I had to do was touch him and he . . . his expression was so peaceful. So happy. It's wrong that he would cherish so little affection." Thorin paused and drew a shuddering breath as he thought of his nephew's peaceful face only moments later twisting in anger.

"And now they both hate me," Thorin said quietly. "And they have every right to. What I did to Fíli, even if I did not mean to do it . . . it is unforgivable. They will never forgive me for it and neither will their mother. I have lost them all, Balin. All of them. And what's worse is that I do not blame them for their hatred. They would be better off without me. I can only cause pain to those that I love. Frerin, Fíli . . . I blame neither of them for hating me or if Fíli wants me dead." He had closed his eyes at the pain of his revelation and was shocked when he felt a hand slip into his own. He opened his eyes to see Fíli looking at him with sad, gentle blue eyes.

"I-I don't hate you, Uncle," Fíli whispered shocked that Thorin believed that he did or that he ever could. Did his uncle not know him at all? "And I do _not_ want you dead so . . . let's keep going. Can you do it for Kíli?" Fíli saw pain the pain that washed across his uncle's face at the mention of his brother and changed tactics.

"Can you . . . can you do it for . . . for . . . for _me_?" Fíli's question was hesitant, choked. He knew that he was asking too much of his uncle and that once more Thorin would reject him as he always had but . . . he also knew that he _had_ to try. He couldn't bear it if his uncle died and neither could Kíli. It was for them all that he did this. His uncle and brother needed him. He tried to hold his uncle's gaze as his heart beat nearly painfully against his ribcage while he waited for Thorin to reply. He felt relief flow through him as the pain in his uncle's eyes shifted to confusion before he nodded.

Thorin's throat felt tight at Fíli's denial of his hatred and the simple, hesitant plea to live for him if for nothing else. Fíli didnt' hate him. Didn't want him dead. He swallowed hard, unable to stop the tears that filled his eyes at just how deeply he had wronged the sweet child before him and his amazement of just how gentle his nephew was still able to be with him. He could not stop them from forming but he was able to keep them from falling. He fought them because he knew now that Fíli needed him as much as he had realized that he needed Fíli. He knew that he needed to appear strong for his nephew.

For the first time since Kíli had glared at him, Thorin felt a smidgen of hope that this could be resolved but it quickly disappeared under pain and regret as he took in his heir: Fíli was afraid . . . of him. He could see the anxiety Fíli held from his question, even as his heir tried to hide it. It was there, in the tight set of his lips, the tension around his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell with the rapidness of a hare caught in a trap. Fíli was terrified of being rejected but he was still here, offering himself as a reason to live. Through the hope and sadness, confusion broke through. _Why_? It was the only thought that Thorin could bring to mind._ Even of Fíli does not hate me, surely he cannot love me._ _**Why**__ is he willing to face his own fears for the uncle that had failed him so greatly?_ The King had no answer for that question and banished it from his mind. For the time being, Fíli was there asking him to live for him and that was all that mattered. Fíli had not abandoned him. Not like Frerin. Not like Kíli. Fíli was still there.

"Aye, lad," Thorin agreed after far too long a pause, squeezing Fíli's hand and offering him a small smile and a nod. "I . . . I can do this. I can do this. For _you_." Fíli offered him a bright smile and a surprised laugh before he threaded his arm through Thorin's as Dwalin's was on the other side. He and Dwalin shared a look before the older warrior nodded and they set off once more. Fíli helping to support his uncle as they made their way through the forest.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Kíli watched in shock as Fíli walked to their uncle's side and threaded his arm through Thorin's. He watched as the tense, fearful expression on his brother's face shifted to a bright smile before settling on the same look of patient love Fíli gave him when Kíli was being ornery. He saw how Thorin's shoulders seemed to straighten at the sight of it. It confused Kíli. Why had his brother gone to their uncle? He had been so angry only moments before, surely it was Thorin that he was angry with. Why, then, had he abandoned Kíli to seek out the company of someone he was mad at? And why was he smiling?

The more he thought about it the less sense it made to him that Fíli would have gone to their uncle. He _knew_ his brother. Fíli was not the kind to seek out people he was cross with and confront them. He was the kind to go off on his own until he had calmed down enough to discuss it rationally on his own or was sought out and cornered by the one he was angry with and provoked to speaking his mind while his temper still burned hot. There was only one explanation that Kíli could find for his brother's move along the column: it was not Thorin that Fíli was angry with but rather Kíli. But that explanation only left him with another question: why?

Kíli could see no reason for Fíli to be angry with him. He had not broken his promise. He had stopped when Fíli had asked it of him even if all he had wanted to do was rebuke his uncle for what he had done to Fíli. He had restrained himself. He still couldn't understand why Fíli had stopped him either time. While it was true that the truth would hurt their uncle, Thorin had always taught them that avoidance was no way to prevent harm. He had always said that avoidance of confrontation in battle would lead to your death and that in life it would only lead to more complications. Complications that were best preempted before they could develop. That had been part of the reason he had been so supportive of Kíli's choice to specialize in archery.

He had said that it would be a good preemptive strategy that would save Kíli's life one day by thinning the field of enemies in battle before they were able to harm him. Though he was supportive, he _did_ insist that Kíli also develop skills in hand-to-hand for when arrows would be of no more use. If Kíli was still more proficient with arrows than axes, well . . . his skills _had_ been part of the thing that had convinced Thorin to allow him to come. Most of the dwarves—including Thorin himself—could shoot a bow but few of them had made an art of it or had the abilities and speed Kíli possessed and Thorin had said that Kíli's skills would ensure that the company had fresh meat on the trip. That was what Thorin had told him _before _Goblin Town at any rate. With a grimace he wondered if his skills had even factored into his inclusion in the company or if it had all been his mother's influence over her brother that had allowed him to come.

With his new knowledge he wondered if his uncle had not attempted to leave him out of distaste or doubt of his skills but _because_ he was the favorite. Had his uncle wanted to leave him because he knew that there was a chance that something like what happened in Goblin Town would happen? He knew that his mother loved both him and his brother, but she had always favored Fíli. It hadn't been obvious—not a blatant as Thorin's favoritism of Kíli as neither of them had even wanted for her love—but Fíli had _always_ been able to push her just a little father than Kíli could. Ask questions of her that Kíli couldn't. Was it possible that she _knew_ that their uncle favored Kíli and had wanted to punish her brother for risking the life of her favorite son by making him risk the life of his favorite nephew?

He quickly rejected that idea. His mother was many things, spiteful was not one of them. Nor would she risk his life to get even with her brother. There was no real strife between her and his uncle and even if there was, she would never have risked his and Fíli's lives just to prove a point to her brother. No, she had insisted he come for his own good, not out of some cruel desire to punish his uncle. She had insisted that he come because as an heir to the throne he _had_ to. Too many things had changed in the past couple of days and Kíli could not bear for his understanding of his mother to be one of them.

Even so, the doubt persisted. He wondered how he could be sure of her motivations when he was no longer sure of anything else. He would never have believed that their uncle could have treated Fíli with such coldness until it was revealed to him or that Fíli could _ever_ attack him with a knife, no matter what he did to deserve it, or that he could turn on his brother as he had. If he had been so wrong about himself, Fíli and his uncle was it possible that he was wrong about his mother as well? The doubts ate at him. Everything that he had always known to be true about himself and his family was crumbling around him. He felt panic begin to well within him as he realized that he wasn't sure of anything anymore. Everything had changed and nothing made sense to him anymore. Not his uncle. Not his brother. Not even himself.

Lost in the eddying flow that was his own confusion and broken illusions of himself and his family Kíli found one thing to cling to. One thing that was solid, even if it was as unfamiliar as everything around him: hatred. Hatred, _true_ hatred, was something else that Kíli had only discovered in the last couple of days and it was at least something that he could understand. True, it pulsed and ebbed and flowed but it was steady, constant in a way that nothing else was at the moment. He had first found it when he looked on the Great Goblin and with his death it had sunk back under everything else with the emotions that rose up in the events that followed but now . . . now—with everything spiraling out of control once more—he found it again.

As new and foreign as it was to the young dwarf, it was the only thing that he felt as if he was familiar with. So he clung to it and as he watched his brother smiling contentedly at the dwarf that was responsible for all of their pain, suffering and for ruining everything, he felt that he found where it should have been directed all along: not at the Goblin—who had only behaved as goblins do, after all—but at his uncle who had put them in this position in the first place. This, all of it— Fíli's insecurities, Kíli's confusion and pain— it could all be traced back to Thorin. It was all his fault and Kíli hated him for it.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Ok . . . y'all know the rules by now. No killing the author . . . right? No . . . no killing? Let's make a deal . . . you don't kill me and I don't kill any of them :)**

**And votes on this one were the closest but they still came down on the side of weekly updates so :) weekly it is (or as close to that as I can mannage :/) **

**As always thank you for taking the time to read this chapter and thank you to all of you that have favorited or added this one to your alerts.**

**And an extra special thank you to those of you that reviewed!**

**gpgal: ****I feel bad for the poor dwarf as well :( Actually I feel bad for ALL of them :( Even angry Kíli. And I will not promise that a little mangling won't happen. Might even help :/ And of course Kíli is protective. He is a dwarf, after all, and they do love fiercely. And he won't. Kíli is not a bottler the only question is who will be feeling the wrath of who after recent developments :( I am glad that you are loving this story and protective Kili :)**

**Well, that's all for now so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined. I would LOVE to know what you thought of it (****especially**** if there was something that you hated)**

**Stickdonkeys**


	22. A Rest, Braids and Jealousy

The company continued to travel until the sun was at its zenith. Only then did Thorin allow them to stop at Fíli's request and Dwalin's insistence. Thorin had been doing his best but . . . he was weary. One short night resting against a tree would never be enough to heal the hurts he had suffered. It was not even the preponderance of the wounds that was the issue but the depth of some of them. Fíli had cut quite deeply and severed more muscles that Thorin had originally realized and there were weaknesses that were making themselves known that had nothing to do with blood loss. He was especially having difficulty taking deep breaths. Not only did it pull at the cauterized wounds but the muscle strength to expand his chest was just not there.

He understood why the lads had focused their attention where they had, with his ribs between them and vital organs such wounds were less likely to kill him, but he wished they would have distributed things a bit more evenly. At least if they had, resting would aid him. As it was . . . he always had to breathe. That was why he was reluctant to let them stop. He would be only moderately more comfortable resting as he would be walking and if they stopped, he ran the risk of his muscles cooling off once more and making resuming travel all the more difficult. And then he tripped and the only things holding him up was Dwalin's arm on his own and the arm Fíli threw around his chest.

While he was grateful to Fíli for keeping him from falling, his nephew's arm managed to hit more than one of his wounds and Fíli's grasping fingers dug into one of the cauterizations shooting a line of fire along his side and causing the King's breath to leave him in a hiss before he began growling out vicious swearwords in both Khuzdul and the common tongue as he clung to Fíli while his limbs shuddered from the new wave of pain.

"I am so sorry, Uncle," Fíli said desperately. "I . . .I just couldn't let you—"

"I'm fine, Fíli," Thorin gasped. "I'm fine, lad. Just . . . give me a moment before you move. Please."

"Of course, Uncle," Fíli replied obediently. There was a brief pause before Fíli decided to try his luck one more time. He knew that his uncle needed to rest but that he was unwilling to do so. Thorin had always responded well to logic and Fíli had thought of a decent argument to get his uncle to take a short break and catch his breath. And what he had heard his uncle say to Balin he thought that he might stand a chance of getting his uncle to listen to him.

"Uncle," Fíli said hesitantly, waiting for Thorin's eyes to open and look at him before he continued, "are you sure you don't need a rest? Just a short one? It wouldn't just be for you either. I know that I would not say no to a short break. I . . . I didn't sleep well. And . . . and I'm sure that everyone is hungry. We did skip breakfast, Uncle. I think that we would all benefit from a small breather. Just a short one."

Thorin sighed trying to think of a way to explain to his nephew why he was driving them so hard. How did he explain to Fíli the true horror of what was pursuing them? How could he tell his nephew that even a short break could result in all of their deaths? That he was terrified of losing Fíli and Kíli as he had lost Frerin? He hated to reject Fíli's suggestion when he could see just how much it had cost the lad to make it but he also could not allow a break.

"Fíli, lad," Thorin said wearily, "I am sorry to force this on you. We cannot risk a rest. There should be some food in my pack that you can eat while we walk if you can find it. It's only cram, and not particularly good cram, and I don't know who has it, but if you can find it, it's yours. As to your fatigue. I'm afraid that it will only grow worse, Fíli. We will only have a short rest tonight. We . . . we cannot fight an orc pack. Not in our current situation. Our only hope is to avoid them. I am so sorry, Fíli."

"It won't do us any good to outrun them if we run ourselves to death, Thorin," Dwalin countered. "You know as well as I do that we will most likely not outrun them. Not at this pace. They _will_ catch us, Thorin. And you know it. When they do it will go worse for us if we are too tired and hungry to fight. Even if you don't need one, I do. As do many of the rest of us. We've been at this all day, Thorin. It is time to give them a break."

Thorin sighed in frustration. He felt as if they had trapped him. He knew that if he could just _think_ he could counter them, but with the pain washing through his body he could not do it. All he could see is that they both had valid points. The company had only had a few hours of sleep the night before. They were tired, hungry . . . they _needed_ a break especially if they were to have any chance of fighting when the orcs _did_ catch them—which Dwalin was correct in saying was inevitable. His own fears to the contrary, Thorin could not deny them this. Their needs had to come before his fears. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way but one that he had no intention of forgetting.

"Give the order," he whispered to Balin. "Tell them that we're breaking for lunch. Those not involved in active food preparation should attempt to get a bit of shut-eye." Balin nodded and gave the order to stop.

"Come, Uncle," Fíli said shifting his hold on Thorin so that he could walk, "There's a tree over there with your name on it." Once they reached it, Dwalin and Fíli carefully lowered Thorin to the ground where he leaned against the tree with a sigh. His eyes drifted closed as he willed himself to relax, despite his fear and pain. Fíli stared down at him for a moment before he sighed sadly and began to walk away. Thorin heard his nephew move away and felt panic seize him at the thought that Fíli was going to leave him now that his presence was not absolutely necessary. Fíli has stayed just as long as he felt that he had to and now he was leaving. With his heart hammering in his chest, his eyes flew open.

"Where are you going, Fíli," Thorin asked his fear of his nephew leaving him making his voice sharp. Thorin regretted his tone instantly when Fíli flinched.

"I . . . I was going get you some water, Uncle," Fíli replied shakily. He had known that his uncle was going to be angry with him for backing him into a corner the way he had with his reasoning for why they had to stop. His uncle might think that he had sense but that didn't mean that he was supposed to use it against Thorin. And that wasn't all he had done. He had also admitted his own weaknesses. Of course his uncle was angry with him. What kind of dwarf couldn't go one night without sleep? None of the others were having near the trouble he was. Not even Kíli. Kíli hadn't admitted to being tired.

"I don't need water, lad," Thorin replied gently, his eyes soft with remorse for upsetting Fíli with his tone and his own insecurities yet again. He extended a hand palm up as a sign of peace and tried to coax his skittish nephew back to him."Come, sit with me. That order to rest did not exclude you. You may be my heir but you need your rest as well, Fíli."

"Yes, Uncle," Fíli replied moving back to Thorin's side and sitting awkwardly beside him against the tree. His eyes had just drifted closed when he felt a tentative hand touch his hair. He gave a start and opened his eyes to see Thorin looking at him, one of Fíli's braids in his hands and a wry smile on his face.

"They're a bit messy, lad," Thorin said quietly, his eyes still gentle as he surveyed his disheveled nephew. "I don't know that I have ever seen them quite this mussed." He instantly regreted his words when he saw Fíli's face close off from him once more before the shame filled his eyes and he looked away. Thorin gave a frustrated sigh as he wondered just how horrible of an uncle he had been that Fíli did not even recognize it when he was joking with him.

"I haven't had time to redo them, Uncle," Fíli replied, looking away from Thorin's eyes as shame flooding his veins that his uncle had commented on his distended braids. Shame that only intensified as his uncle sighed in frustration. He had been so careful to keep them up ever since Thorin had decided that it was time that he wore them. He had redone them ever morning since he was a child hoping that if they were perfect perhaps they would please his uncle and that maybe if he was pleased things could go back to how they had been. It never worked.

"And even if I had," Fíli continued knowing that time alone was not an acceptable excuse for shaming the line of Durin, "I can't braid with a broken hand. I couldn't even tie a knot. Braiding is beyond me at the moment. I . . . I will . . . I'll fix them as soon as I am able. I'm sorry that you and the others have to see me so . . . so . . . " Fíli could not think of an appropriate word to describe just how sloppy he knew he had to look at the moment. He _had_ to be shaming both his uncle and the line of Durin. Thorin would never forgive him for it.

"Hush, Fíli," Thorin said gently, releasing the braid and placing his hand on Fíli's shoulder instead. "I did not mean to upset you. Calm yourself. I was not criticizing you. I . . . I was going to . . . never mind, lad. Go back to your nap." Fíli eyed him in confusion as Thorin shifted his eyes away from Fíli's face in what almost looked like shame. His uncle hadn't been critiquing his appearance? Why had he commented on Fíli's braids then?

"What were you going to say, Uncle?" Fíli asked in curiosity. "I'll listen. I promise." He wondered if his uncle would speak again. Before he would have said that it would never happen but this open, fragile version of his uncle confused him. He'd never seen his uncle like this, so hesitant and apologetic, even with Kíli or his mother. He had never heard his uncle say _anything_ like what he had said to Balin earlier. He had been unaware that his uncle had doubts or regrets about anything, let alone himself.

"I . . . I was going to . . . well that is to say," Thorin paused and took as deep a breath as he was capable of before he continued in a rush. "I was going to offer to redo them for you but I know that you will not allow me such an intimacy. You do not have to refuse. I will not force that on you." Fíli blinked at his uncle owlishly. Thorin had _never_ offered to braid his hair. Never. Not even when he had been a child. If his uncle ever did anyone's hair it was his mother or Kíli's. Never Fíli's.

"You . . . want to . . . you want to braid my hair?" Fíli breathed in shock.

"Forget I said anything," Thorin replied harshly, turning his face away from his nephew. "I know that it is an overstepping of our relationship. I know that I am not worthy to do your hair. Not after what I have done to you but . . . I thought that it _might_ serve as the beginning of my apology to you. A promise that I will make an active effort to . . . forget it."

"You want to braid my hair." Fíli repeated his question as a statement. His tone confused Thorin. He didn't sound angry and he glanced at Fíli to see that his nephew was still shocked by what he was saying. He hadn't meant to shock Fíli either. It seemed that he had no idea how to interact with his nephew without causing them both pain.

"Forget it, lad," Thorin repeated, steel in his voice and pain in his eyes. "I know that you will never allow it. I should never have suggested it. I apologize for overstepping my rights."

"No, Uncle," Fíli replied stubbornly. "I won't forget it. I'll _never _forget it." Thorin sighed and looked away knowing that he had made _another_ mistake and pushed his nephew even further from him by trying too hard to make things right between them. The sound of a metallic click drew his attention back to his nephew in time to see Fíli undoing one of his braids with his left hand.

"Fíli?" Thorin breathed, shocked at his nephew's actions. Surely Fíli did not intend to allow him to do it. There was no way that Fíli would allow him such an intimacy. Not after everything he had done. Rather than say anything, Fíli unclipped a second braid and unraveled it as well. The third and fourth soon followed. Thorin watched in shock as Fíli dug in his pack and produced a comb which he then pressed into Thorin's hand along with his clasps, a gentle pleading in his blue eyes. Thorin closed his hand around the little silver clasps. Clasps that Dís had made for him. A job that Thorin should have done himself just as he had made Kíli's.

"Are you sure, Fíli?" Thorin asked emotion choking his voice as he looked at his nephew kneeling beside him with his golden hair tumbling free around his face as Thoin had not seen it since he was a small child. It made Fíli look even younger than he was.

"I'm sure," Fíli replied, his voice quiet but firm. He waited until Thorin nodded before he lowered himself to the ground and placed his head on Thorin's thigh so that his uncle could fix his hair without putting too much strain on his shoulders.

With hands that shook, Thorin gathered Fíli's golden hair—so much lighter and softer than his own— in his right hand and began working through the knots with the comb in his left. He couldn't see Fíli's face but he could see from the steady way that his nephew's chest rose and fell that Fíli was content and relaxed. Under his skilled hands the tangles slowly became liquid gold. Once all the knots were clear, Thorin began to section the hair to form Fíli's signature plaints. In no time at all, he had both of the braids back in place.

"Fíli," Thorin said quietly. "I need you to roll over so I can do the other side." The only reply Thorin received was a quiet snore. He smiled affectionately at the grown dwarfling asleep in his lap before leaning against the tree to attempt a nap of his own, his fingers still tangled in Fíli's golden hair. Neither of them noticing the commotion that was going on just on the other side of camp.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Kíli watched in shock as his brother undid his braids. He had never seen Fíli undo his braids in front of anyone other than himself. Not since their mother had quit doing them. The only one to see Fíli with his hair loose had been Kíli. And now Fíli was letting their uncle see. Kíli's shock turned to confusion as he saw his brother dig his comb from his pack and press it into their uncle's hand before laying himself on the ground with his head in their uncle's lap. Surely Fíli didn't intend to let Thorin braid his hair.

Kíli felt shock and anger wash through his body as their uncle's hands tangled in his brother's hair. He wasn't sure if Fíli had asked or Thorin had offered but it did not matter to him. This was wrong. He couldn't understand how Fíli could allow their uncle to touch him in such a way after everything Thorin had done to him. He knew that Thorin had to be responsible for this. He had manipulated Fíli somehow. Fíli would do anything for a scrap of his love. What he saw before him disgusted Kíli.

He didn't care if his uncle wanted Fíli for a favorite. His brother deserved love but to go about offering him love in such a public fashion. It seemed more to Kíli like a ploy to make the others believe that Throin loved both of his nephews equally than it felt like an actual display of affection and the fact that Thorin would use Fíli like that made his blood boil.

With an angry snort Kíli was on his feet once more and moving towards them. Promise to Fíli or no he could not allow this manipulative behavior to continue. If Fíli would not speak for himself Kíli would do it for him.

"Kíli?" Bilbo asked as the angry dwarf stormed past him. "Where are you going? You're supposed to be helping Bofur to cut the—"

"I need to talk to my _family_," Kíli snarled. Bilbo looked around in shock wondering what had angered Kíli so and saw Thorin and Fíli sitting below the tree. Bilbo had to smile. They both looked more peaceful than he had seen them in days. That only confused him more. Why was Kíli so angry? Was he still so cross with Fíli that he would be angry that his brother was receiving a bit of peace?

"Hold up, lad," Dwalin said stepping into his path. "Leave them in peace for a bit. They have things they need to work out just the two of them."

"I can't do that, Dwalin," Kíli argued, glaring up at the larger warrior. "Fíli needs me and Uncle and I have things that we need to discuss as well."

"I think you have said more than enough to your uncle, Kíli," Dwalin countered his tone cold. "Even if you didn't say a word you hurt him. Deeply. You nearly broke him, Kíli. I have never seen your uncle so deeply wounded. You did that to him, Kíli."

"I can't've," Kíli countered. "I didn't even say a word to him. Now let me by."

"No," Dwalin replied. "You are not going over there, lad. Not until you and I have had a little chat."

"Fine," Kíli snapped. "Talk. Then get out of my way."

"Not here, lad," Dwalin said with a shake of his head. "Over there. In private."

"I don't have time for this," Kíli grumbled attempting to side-step Dwalin only to find his path blocked by the large dwarf. "Just let me by!"

"Not this time, Kíli," Dwalin said with a shake of his head. "Neither of them needs you. Not at the moment."

"How do you know what they need?" Kíli demanded. "They're _my _family!"

"And you have a funny way of showing it!" Dwalin roared before he composed himself once more and continued in a calmer voice. "Now come with me. We're not doing this here."

"And I'm not moving!" Kíli yelled. "If you want to talk to me we can do it right here! I do not intend to move from this spot unless it is to go forward." Dwalin eyed him speculatively and, for a moment, Kíli smirked as he believed that he had won this argument but then the large dwarf surged forward and before Kíli knew what happened he was slung over Dwalin's shoulder like a sack of grain, his head hanging down the larger dwarf's back. His wounds protested his rough treatment and he was ashamed of himself as a cry rose up his throat before he began to beg.

"Ow! Please, Dwalin, it hurts," Kíli protested. "I . . . this hurts! Please put me down. I'll walk. I swear it!"

"You had your chance, Kíli," Dwalin said simply, his heart clinching at the small cries of pain coming from the nearly grown dwarfling slung over his shoulder. "You chose to behave like a child so I am treating you like one. In fact, for what you've done I'd like nothing better than to put you over my knee like a dwarfling. You're lucky I'm not your father or I would even if you _are_ nearly grown. Though I will admit that if your mother ever finds out what you have done to your brother and your uncle I wouldn't put it past _her_." Kíli paled at the mention of his mother. She was going to be furious with him for what he had done to his brother and let her own do to Fíli.

"Should we. . . " Bilbo began gesturing after the two dwarves that were leaving camp. Bofur, Bombur and Balin all looked at him quizzically wondering what he was talking about. "Shouldn't we . . . I don't know . . . go after them? Dwalin seemed quite irritated with Kíli and —"

"Kíli will be fine," Bofur said with a laugh. "Dwalin won't hurt him. May yell a bit but . . . Kíli'll survive it."

"But . . . Dwalin is so _big!_" Bilbo protested. "Surely Kíli—"

"Is in no danger," Balin cut in with a laugh. He had to smile at just how well his brother had gotten his bluff in on the hobbit. "Dwalin . . . he may be a formidable warrior but outside of battle . . . don't tell him I said this but . . . he's little more dangerous than a kitten. _Especially_ where either of those boys is concerned. Don't worry, laddie. More likely than not they won't even exchange blows." Bilbo watched as Dwalin hauled Kíli into the woods, his disbelief clear on his face. He could only hope that Balin was right about his brother. He didn't see where Dwalin beating Kíli would do anyone any good.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**See, that was a bit better, right? Things will start looking up here shortly. This was the bottom (I think) nowhere to go but up from here :)**

**As always thank you to all of you that have favorited or added this one to your alerts.**

**And an extra special thank you to those of you that reviewed!**

**LM: **** Thank you! I am glad that you are enjoying them :) And that may be what ends up happening in the long run. . . they may have to go from 5,000 is word chapters to 2,500 words (still decently long) but for now I have a fairly healthy padding :) I actually did consider cutting this one before Kíli's little confrontation but decided just to leave it :) Thank you so much for the suggestion! And you made perfect sense. Greatings from Okalhoma :)**

**Well, that's all for now so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined. I would LOVE to know what you thought of it (especially if there was something that you hated)**

**Stickdonkyes**


	23. A Heated Discussion and More Revelations

Despite Dwalin's threat, he had no intention of beating Kíli. Once he deemed that they were far enough from camp that their voices would not carry, he gently set the young heir on his feet before backing away a few paces to allow him some space. His heart ached at the way Kíli glared at him, betrayal and pain clear in his brown eyes as the lad wrapped his arms protectively around himself.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, lad," Dwalin sighed. "But I had to get you out of camp. The others didn't need to see this. They don't need to see their King and his heirs fighting amongst themselves. They also don't need to see the youngest heir getting lectured by his older cousin."

"So you intend to lecture me?" Kíli snapped his glare only intensifying. "What about?"

"About your treatment of your brother and uncle," Dwalin said as if Kíli was being intentionally dense. What else did Kíli think that Dwalin had hauled him out of camp for, just as he was about to interpose himself in his brother and uncle's affairs? Was Kíli truly so foolish?

"I can't see where that's any of you business, Dwalin," Kíli replied coolly, his icy tone in direct contrast to the anger still burning in his eyes. "They're _my_ family."

"They're my family as well, lad," Dwalin replied sternly even if he had needed to do a bit of a double take to see if it was Kíli or Thorin he was talking to. He had never realized just how much the youngest heir had in common with his uncle before that moment. He found himself wising that Kíli would have picked a different one of Thorin's traits to emulate.

"And even if they were not . . . you can't treat people they way you have treated those two, Kíli," Dwalin continued. "They _love_ you. I know that this may not make sense to you, you're very young yet, but . . . love, like what those two have for you . . . it's a rare thing, lad. You shouldn't cast it away so easily."

"Easily!" Kíli scoffed gesturing back in the directions of the Blue Mountains. "Do you have _any_ idea what he did?"

"Aye," Dwalin replied harshly not sure if Kíli was talking about Fíli or Thorin but not caring either way, "he saved your life and you turned on him for it." They had both saved his life and no matter what he thought they had done to deserve his ire, that fact could not be ignored. His brother had sacrificed his peace of mind and his uncle his body all for Kíli's sake. Even if Thorin would survive his wounds, his life was still in jeopardy and Kíli had turned on him. The thought of it enraged Dwalin. Thorin had _never_ done anything to Kíli to merit such anger. Nor had Fíli for that matter before yesterday.

"What?" Kíli breathed in confusion. He was talking about his uncle. How had he turned on his uncle for saving his life? He knew that the situation in the goblin caves had been dire, but Gandalf arrived fairly quickly. He knew that Thorin had saved him from pain but he wouldn't have died. And that was irrelevant in light of what he had done to Fíli. Saving one life did not absolve him of destroying another, especially when part of the breaking was done in the act of saving.

"Aye. He saved your life," Dwalin repeated. "If Fíli hadn't done what he did you would either be in the same state as your uncle, worse off, or dead. You could have _died,_ Kíli. The goblins would not have showed you the same mercy that you and Fíli showed Thorin. They would not have avoided fatal wounds. Painfully fatal wounds. And if they _did _avoid the fatal ones, they would have still been _permanently_ crippling. Fíli saved your life and you . . . that was _beyond_ cold, Kíli. I have _never_ been so _ashamed_ of you in your entire life. What made you do it, lad?"

"It was a misunderstanding," Kíli replied sadly, temporarily shocked out of his anger by Dwalin's certainty that he would be dead or crippled if not for Fíli and his uncle. He was humbled once more by his uncle and Fíli's sacrifice for his sake. "I . . . I can't explain why I did it. There's no reason that would make it acceptable even if I tried. I _should_ have known better than to think that Fíli would ever do something like that for no reason. I should have known." The last words were a desperate cry that made Dwalin's heart go out to the confused young dwarf before him.

"You should have," Dwalin agreed a little gentler now that Kíli was admitting to his own mistakes. "I don't understand how you couldn't see what was going on, Kíli. How you could believe your brother was capable of such cruelty. I thought you knew Fíli better than that, lad."

"I do!" Kíli protested desperately, his brown eyes begging Dwalin to understand. "I did! I know my brother!" _Do you really? _a part of his mind asked. _You claim to know him but not only did you turn on him when he was saving your life but you failed to notice as he was neglected for __**seventy**__ years. He hid it from you for seventy years. If he could hide something like that, how well can you really say that you know him? Did you think that any part of him was capable of harming you? He did that._

"Do you now?" Dwalin asked a hint of sarcasm in his tone, unknowingly echoing Kíli's own mind. "If you know him so well why did you disown him for his desire to do whatever it took to see you safe. Was it because you love your uncle more than you love your brother?"

"I _don't_ love my uncle," Kíli snarled viciously as Dwalin brought up the object of his hatred and attempted to compare it to the love he had for his wronged brother. "Not anymore. Not after what he did to Fíli."

"He didn't force that choice on your brother, Kíli," Dwalin snapped back feeling the need to protect Thorin from baseless accusations as he realized that it wasn't Fíli that Kíli blamed for the situation any more. He now blamed Thorin for what he had blamed Fíli for only yesterday. Dwalin had to bite back a frustrated sigh. He couldn't keep up with the shifting relationships between Thorin and his heirs.

"_Fíli_ made the choice to save you and Thorin merely supported it," Dwalin reminded him firmly. "_Fíli_ chose it, Kíli. Thorin forced _nothing_ on him. Not to say that Thorin wouldn't have made the same decision on his own but he did not force it on your brother." He took one look at Kíli's hard eyes and the sneer marring his young face and sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "You're not talking about the caves, are you, lad?" The question was softer, gentler than any other that Dwalin had directed at him since he had carried him from camp and Kíli started at the abrupt change. He eyed his older cousin carefully, taking in Dwalin's sad eyes and defeated expression.

"You knew," Kíli breathed feeling betrayal beginning to creep into the edges of his mind and the hatred he felt for his uncle beginning to shift and morph so that it could encompass any who had known and done nothing.

"All this time you _knew_ what my uncle was doing to Fíli, didn't you?" Kíli demanded his voice rising and his eyes wild. Dwalin flinched as he watched the confusion in Kíli's eyes morph to understanding before anger rose up in their brown depths. This was not going at all like the warrior had anticipated. Kíli was far angrier than he had believed over far less petty a thing and far more shrewd that he had ever realized. For the first time he wondered if Fíli truly was the most intelligent of Dís' children. He wondered if they had all underestimated Kíli.

"Now, Kíli," Dwalin began placatingly, trying to calm the irate dwarf in front of him before Kíli exploded and did something they would both regret. He doubted that Thorin would offer him the same clemency he had give Fíli the day before after Kíli's actions that morning. Especially when Dwalin could easily overpower him so even if they both said that he had not meant to kill him—which he wasn't sure that Kíli _could_ say in his present mood—no one would believe that Kíli had backed down on his own. "What you need to understand—"

"What is there for me to understand?!" Kíli demanded harshly. "Uncle neglected my brother. There is no explanation for that. Who else knows about this?!"

"If you'll just _listen_, Kíli," Dwalin said firmly reaching forward to grasp Kíli's upper arms only to be cut off by an angry noise from the young dwarf. Kíli glared angrily up at him as he spoke in a voice Dwalin had never heard from him before. He hadn't know that Kíli was capable of such anger and hatred.

"I don't want to listen unless you intend to tell me how so many of you could let this go on for _seventy_ years!" Kíli hissed, too angry for volume as he discovered that at least Dwalin had known what his uncle had done to his brother. "Who else knows? Balin? My mother? Who?" Dwalin sighed and looked at Kíli, standing there with his brown eyes burning with furry that was beginning to border on bloodlust and knew that he could not lie to him. Kíli would smell a lie a league away in his present mood. And even if he could not, Dwalin couldn't bring himself to lie to Kíli. Not about this. Even though he knew that it might bring Kíli to hate him, he could not do it. There had been too much deceit and silence where this was concerned. But he also knew that Kíli's rage would not be helped with the truth. In fact, this might be about to make things worse.

"Everyone knows, Kíli," Dwalin whispered dejectedly. "We all knew. Everyone except Thorin. And you. But, Kíli, he never realized what he was doing until Balin challenged him about it yesterday. He . . . he didn't know, lad. Your uncle . . . there is something you need to know about Thorin—"

"I don't want to know anything about him!" Kíli yelled breaking free from Dwalin's limp hold to begin pacing angrily. "I don't want anything to do with him. Not if he could do something like that to his heir. His nephew. His own kin. His own _blood_. He treated Fíli like he was nothing!"

"Like you did?" Dwalin asked harshly trying to break through the hatred and bring back the remorseful dwarfling he had been speaking to only moments before. He knew that his words would hurt Kíli but he couldn't let him continue down this path. He had seen where this led and it was nowhere good. Thorin had reacted the same way after Frerin's death and had turned on Thráin just as Kíli was now turning on Thorin, needing someone to blame for the loss of his brother and then when Thráin had disappeared . . . Thorin had been devastated. He had said more than once that his father had only left because of his treatment of him. He also saw himself as responsible for Thráin's death. Dwalin didn't even know if Dís knew about that fight. He didn't know if Thorin ever told his sister just what he had said to their father the night they found Frerin. Somehow he doubted it.

Dwalin shook himself out of the memory of the fight he had witnessed all those years ago and turned his full attention back to Kíli. He had said nothing when Thorin turned on Thráin because he secretly believed that Thráin was responsible as well but . . . well no one had died this time and Thorin was attempting to make amends and Dwalin would be damned if he let Kíli lose himself to the same cycle of hatred that had claimed his uncle. If he had to hurt Kíli to keep him from becoming as cold and bitter and filled with shame and guilt as Thorin, so be it. Especially when the loss of Thorin was a very real possibility with what was pursuing them: wounded warriors rarely survived battle, especially not pitched ones. He would not allow Kíli to blame himself for Thorin's death if it did occur.

So rather than stop, he twisted the knife and cruelly taunted the boy saying, "Because you show _such_ familial solidarity, don't you, Kíli?"

"That's different," Kíli snapped his expression rapidly becoming unsure and defensive as he was reminded yet again of his abysmal treatment of his brother.

"How?" Dwalin demanded. "How is what you did any different? Yes, Thorin was cold to him while he was warm with you but he _never_ disowned him. Fíli was given the same rights in society that you were, even if he was denied the warmth of Thorin's love. And he was at least consistent. Fíli knows what to expect from him but _you_; Kíli, how many moods have you gone through in two days? I myself have seen a devoted nephew change to a hateful _brat _for a slight not even against him that the one it _was_ against is more forgiving of. I've seen a devoted brother switch to a condemning one back to a devoted one in a matter of hours. I see why Fíli did what he did yesterday. Now, I'm not saying that Fíli was right to cut you, because he wasn't, but—"

"I know I deserved it," Kíli replied sadly. "I know that he had every right to seek vengeance on me. Just as I have rights to seek vengeance on my uncle on his behalf as he won't!" Kíli's mood swung once more as he tried to work through his chaotic feelings on his uncle and brother. "I don't care if he _is_ a king, Uncle can't treat people this way!"

"And neither can _you_," Dwalin said, trying to keep up with Kíli's train of though and reason with him. "You said earlier that Fíli needs you, and he does. He needs a loving brother who is there for him when _he_ is ready to talk, but so does Thorin. Thorin _needs _a loving nephew. _Two_ of them. Fíli sees that. I know that you are mad and want to stand by your brother, but at the moment, I would almost say that Thorin needs you a good deal more than Fíli does."

"Have you seen Fíli lately, Dwalin?" Kíli demanded. "He _needs_ me. I've never seen him like this. So tentative so," Kíli paused and bit his lip looking away from Dwalin. When he looked back, there were tears in his eyes, "I _broke_ him, Dwalin. I . .. I can't abandon him. Not now. He _needs _me, can't you see that?!"

"No he doesn't, lad," Dwalin said sadly. "_You_ need him, just as you always have. _You_ need him to need you so that you don't feel worthless. But, Kíli, Fíli _does_ _not_ need you at the moment. He needs space. You say that you know your brother, tell me this: has he had time to sort through his feelings well enough to deal with you just yet? I saw the two of you in the clearing earlier today when you turned on Thorin. You say that _Fíli_ needs _you_ but _you_ were the one clinging to _him_, not he to you. _You_ are the one that needs him."

"No," Kíli breathed, his face crumpling at the thought that his brother didn't need him. "No! You're wrong! Fíli needs me!" He began to panic slightly as he realized that Dwalin was right. Fíli didn't need him. He replayed all of their interactions the past couple of days in his mind and realized that not once had Fíli actually sought him out. He had been the one to seek out Fíli. After the third time he had denounced Fíli in the caves, Fíli had quit seeking him out and had actually begged him to leave him be.

"No," Dwalin repeated. "He doesn't need you. Not right now."

"If not me then who?" Kíli asked, accidentally echoing his words to Fíli the day before. Dwalin just sighed and said nothing, but he didn't need to. Fíli's words from the day before echoed in his mind.

"_Anyone else," Fíli snapped. "I don't want to see you, let alone talk to you. You betrayed my trust. Broke my heart. You have no right to speak to me let alone ask me to speak to you. You disowned me, remember? You can't take something like that back, Kíli. Now go away!"_

"No," Kíli moaned, sinking to his knees and fighting against the urge to cry once more. He was done crying and this was a pain beyond that at any rate. Dwalin was right. Fíli did not need him.

"No," Kíli moaned again, fisting his hands in his hair in an attempt to stave off the realization that was pressing in on him. Fíli did not need him. Suddenly his brother's angry eyes from just a bit earlier flashed through his mind and for a moment he couldn't breathe as he realized that not only did Fíli not _need_ him, he didn't _want_ him. At all. Fíli hated him. Hated him for hating their uncle.

"No," Kíli breathed as the full implications of his actions hit him. He tried to curl in on himself on the ground despite the protests of his wounds at the stretching of his spine. He ignored it as he tried to feel a bit less alone. As he knelt there, curled into a ball his anger and hatred left him and he suddenly felt very cold as he realized that in two days he had lost his entire family. Fíli hated him, his uncle would never forgive him and his mother . . . he had lost her as well. There was no way that she could—should—love someone capable of what he had done. He was alone. For the first time in his life, Kíli was alone and he found that he did not like the feeling. Not at all.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Here we are all, new chapter up! I hope that you enjoy it! This week is BEYOND insane so I have not yet replied to your reviews from the last chapter. I WILL do it I just . . . yeah. And I figured you would prefer a new chapter rather than me hold them until I had time to reply, though I WILL take the time to reply as you took the time to review. It just may take me a bit :/**

**That said, as always, thank you for taking the time to read/favorite/follow this story and an extra special thank you to those of you that took the time to write a review. **

**Stickdonkeys**


	24. A Desperate Plea & a Painful Confession

Back at camp, Thorin awoke with a start as he felt something touch him. A start that ended in a moan of pain as his wounds protested the sudden movement.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo whispered as he watched the dwarf king battle back his pain once more. "I didn't mean to startle you. I . . . I said your name a few times and you didn't respond so I—"

"It is fine, Halfling," Thorin said once he was able, though there was still pain in his tone and the set of his jaw as he surveyed the hobbit that was standing beside him, noticing that Bilbo had two bowls of food in his hands.

"Are those for us?" Thorin asked nodding at the bowls. Bilbo nodded with a small smile.

"Balin asked me to bring them to you," Bilbo said brightly. "Seemed reluctant to do it himself, actually. He probably didn't want to wake you. Do . . . where do you want me to . . . "

"Anywhere you wish," Thorin replied. "I _would_ appreciate it if you would leave them within reach and preferably not where Fíli might kick them over when I wake him. I doubt there is anything to replace them and Fíli said he was hungry."

"It's not Fíli you have to worry about kicking things over when you wake him," Bilbo said wrinkling his nose at the memory of Kíli's squirming the night before and his reaction to being woken even on a good day. After a very painful boot to the shin from Kíli, Bilbo had taken to throwing things at the brothers from a distance when it was his turn to wake them. "It's Kíli. That dwarf! There have been times I just wanted to—" the hobbit cut himself off as he saw the dark expression on Thorin's face and quickly backpedaled. "Not to say that I would have _ever_ raised a hand to your nephew! I wouldn't! I-I'm actually rather fond of both of them it's just that—"

"Kíli can be a bit of a handful," Thorin replied sadly, endeavoring to reassure the hobbit. It was not Bilbo that he was upset with. It was himself. How was it possible that the _hobbit_—who had known them for a few scant months—could know more about Fíli than he did? How did he not know that Fíli still woke as calmly as he had as a child even on the road? That unpleasant discovery combined with the pain that he felt at hearing Kíli's name after what had just passed between them and soured his mood even further.

"I know that he is difficult to tolerate at times," Thorin said with a fond, nostalgic smile. "I helped to raise them." _Him_, he mentally corrected, _I helped to raise Kíli but not Fíli. Dís raised Fíli alone._ "Kíli can be rather . . . trying. If he ever _does_ get to be too much, I would not fault you for smacking him upside the head. It might even do him some good. I would only fear that you would injure yourself in the process. We dwarves are rather thick headed after all." He ran a hand through Fíli's golden hair, his own words echoing in his ears. He knew that their people—his family especially—were quite obstinate. He was unsure just how long Fíli would allow this closeness between them before he pushed Thorin away again and had no intention of letting a moment of it go to waste. Especially not when it might be the last closeness any of his family ever allowed again.

Bilbo watched for only a moment as the tender, vulnerable emotions crossed Thorin's face before he placed the bowls silently on the ground and walked away as quietly as he could. He felt that he was intruding on something intimate that was not meant for him to see. He now understood why Balin had been unwilling to bring food to them. Even so, he could not help the content smile that spread across his face at seeing that Thorin was not nearly as cold as he pretended to be. He felt that it was good to see a more human side of the dwarf king, even if it was reserved for his dear sister-sons. They deserved nothing but happiness after the last few days of chaos.

"What's got a smile on your face," Bofur asked as Bilbo walked up and sat down beside him. "I could use a smile after the last couple of days." Bilbo said nothing and shook his head, his peaceful smile not faltering. He did not feel that it was his to share as it had not been his to see in the first place.

"Since when is smiling for no reason against the rules?" Bilbo replied sarcastically nudging the dwarf with his shoulder. "I don't recall that being a clause in my contract. Though I will admit that if it was after the incineration bit I may have missed it. My mind _did _shut off for a bit after that."

"It wasn't in there, laddie," Balin assured him with a laugh. "There was no clause against smiling in your contract."

"Thorin might have wanted to put one though," Glóin added. "Never been one for smiles, he hasn't."

"But he's never faulted others for theirs," Balin replied glaring at his cousin. "Thorin would not have done such a thing. He values smiles in others. Sometimes beyond prudence." Balin's tone was sad at the end and Glóin caught his eyes before flicking his own in the direction Dwalin had carried Kíli not long before. Balin gave him a shallow nod and flicked his own eyes to where Fíli was still sleeping in Thorin's lap. Glóin closed his eyes and shook his head sadly. Now Kíli's behavior that morning made more sense. The boys finally knew. He felt shame flood his veins at his part in it, little as it had been.

Bilbo watched this silent exchange in confusion. He glanced at Bofur hoping for clarification but the other dwarf merely shrugged. He did not understand what had just passed between the cousins any more than Bilbo did. Though he would have wagered most of his fourteenth that whatever it was had something to do with their king and his heirs.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Thorin did not notice that Bilbo had left until he looked up and realized that the hobbit was gone. He glanced around quickly and saw that Bilbo had left their food beside the tree before he had returned to the fire and the others. When his gaze returned to the blonde head resting on his thigh he had the sudden, cowardly urge to allow him to continue to sleep if only to prolong the moment. With a sigh Thorin realized that was not possible and that he now had to wake Fíli. It would be selfish of him to let his nephew sleep so that he could pretend that things were fine between them and allow his food to grow cold in the process.

"Fíli," he said stroking his nephew's cheek to wake him. He felt trepidation settle in his gut as Fíli stirred and hummed happily before he froze. Thorin stopped moving and it was everything that he could do to force himself to draw breath as he waited for the flare of temper that he knew would follow. There was no way that Fíli would be _pleased_ with having fallen asleep in his lap. Thorin knew that he had long ago forfeited the privilege of Fíli trusting him enough to sleep in his presence if not driven there by exhaustion. Even knowing what would surely follow Fíli's waking, Thorin was unable to resist the impulse to stroke Fíli's cheek once more before his hand would inevitably be batted away.

But Fíli was not angry. He was shocked. The last thing he remembered he had been laying with his head in his uncle's lap while Thorin braided his hair. Fíli knew that that much had happened; he could feel the familiar pull of fresh braids against his scalp. He froze as he realized that he must have fallen asleep while his uncle braided. He felt shame creep into his mind that he had been so weak as to sleep while his uncle braided his hair. That he had been soothed into unconsciousness like a dwarfling from such a simple touch. He knew that his uncle had to be embarrassed that Fíli was exhausted enough to fall asleep the moment he was still after only one night of little sleep.

His shame faded beneath shock when he felt his uncle's fingers move gently across his cheek once more. The gesture was gentle, affectionate and it confused him. He could not understand his uncle's behavior since the goblin caves. Thorin was doing many things that he had never done before. Not only had his uncle offered—no _requested_—to braid his hair for the first time ever but he had also allowed him to sleep in his lap. Fíli had _never_ been allowed to do that. Not even as a child. The moment he had fallen asleep, Thorin had _always_ moved him to his bed and he could count the times he had been permitted to fall asleep on his uncle on one hand and it had been seventy years since any of those had happened.

Knowing that his uncle would never allow this again, Fíli lay as still as he could, trying to prolong the moment as long as he could. He flinched when he felt Thorin's hand close gently around his shoulder and give him a bit of a shake. He had known that it was too good to last. His uncle was going to ask him to leave.

Thorin's heart broke anew at Fíli's flinch. He hated that Fíli felt the need to flinch away from his touch and that no matter what he said he seemed to startle his nephew. He looked back over his memories of their interactions and wondered if he had truly been such a horrible uncle that Fíli feared him. He could understand the distance and the confusion but not the fear. He had never struck his nephew. Fíli had no reason to fear him and it shamed him that he did.

"Fíli," Thorin whispered gently, attempting to keep the pain from his voice as he roused his nephew. "Come on now. There's food. You said that you were hungry, though if you prefer I suppose that you can sleep a bit longer before you _have_ to wake and eat."

"I can?" Fíli asked in a small voice as he rolled onto his back to look at his uncle without lifting his head from Thorin's leg. "You . . . you would . . . I-I could still sleep here? You're not . . . ashamed of me?" Thorin wanted to look away from the pain in Fíli's blue eyes, but instead he forced himself to hold his gaze and nodded slowly.

"Of course you can," Thorin replied, emotion choking his words. "Fíli, I'm so sorry that you feel you need to ask that question, lad. I am sorry that I have made you feel unwelcome. And of course I am not ashamed of you. You weren't the only one who fell asleep just now." His smile turned wry before he continued, "The hobbit had to wake me to deliver our food. There is no shame in being tired, Fíli."

"Did Bilbo survive the experience?" Fíli asked with a laugh knowing that waking his uncle was always a dangerous task, years of being on edge in the wild making his first reaction to an unexpected touch a violent one.

"He's fortunate that I am wounded," Thorin replied with a small smile. "Now, do you wish to sleep a bit more or—" Fíli's stomach chose that moment to answer the question with a growl. Thorin had to smile, it seemed that some things never changed. "Come, lad, sit up and we'll dine together." Thorin's smile faded a bit as Fíli eagerly—too eagerly—scrambled to hand Thorin a bowl before he sat beside him too closely for Thorin's comfort. It was not Fíli's presence that he objected to, but the pressure his nephew's weight put on his wounds. He tried to ignore it in favor of knowing that he was giving Fíli what he needed to heal but it was beyond him. Every pulse of his heart caused the pain to intensify and he knew that he would not long be able to endure it.

"Fíli," Thorin whispered reluctantly, flinching at the way Fíli stiffened beside him at his name. "I am sorry, lad but . . . I need you to move away just a bit. I . . . I can't breathe." Fíli's sharp intake of breath was like a knife to his heart, as was the amount of distance his heir put between them. Fíli had scooted away from him far enough that no warmth even passed between them and had curled almost defensively in on himself, even so slight a rejection breaking his resolve.

"Fíli," Thorin sighed eventually as he watched his nephew pick at his food. "I'm sorry, lad."

"No!" Fíli replied vehemently, turning to look at his uncle with wide, shocked blue eyes. "You have nothing to apologize for, Uncle. I . . . I was the one who . . . the one _stupid_ enough to forget that you are injured. I . . . I'm sorry, Uncle. I should have known better." Fíli snorted derisively and shook his head before he continued in a pained voice, "If I can't even remember something like _that_! I truly am worthless."

"No," Thorin said harshly, not even repenting his harshness when Fíli looked at him cautiously. "You are _not_ worthless and I _never_ want to hear you say such a thing again. You are not worthless, Fíli." The words hung between them for a moment before Fíli looked away and whispered, "Then why couldn't you love me?"

"What?" Thorin breathed feeling as if Fíli had punched him in the stomach. It was not news to him that Fíli believed that he loved Kíli more, nor was it news to him that he had led his nephew to believe it but . . . he didn't know that Fíli believed himself unworthy of love at all. He felt disgust for himself well within him that he could lead Fíli to believe such a horrible thing. Love was freely given, not earned through merit. Thorin knew that well. He knew that if one had to earn love he would never have had Dís or her boys. He knew that he was not worthy of the love they had for him but that it was his all the same, just as all love is. He had thought that Fíli knew it too.

"Why couldn't you love me?" Fíli repeated, looking at Thorin with tears in his eyes and confusion and pain in his voice. "If I'm not worthless . . . I . . . I have _tried _to be worthy, Uncle. I . . . I have tried to do _everything_ that you _ever_ asked of me. I . . . I know that I've often failed but . . . what did I do that was so wrong? It . . . you used to love me just like you do Kíli and then . . . what did I do to make you stop?! I . . . I've tried to figure out what it was and I . . . I _can't_. I can't figure out what it was! Tell me what it was! I'll never do it again, I swear!"

"Fíli, you did nothing wrong," Thorin replied desperate to make the boy understand that Thorin's failings were no fault of Fíli's. "_I_ was the one that wronged _you_. You did _nothing_."

"Is that why?" Fíli replied desperately, his tone growing more frantic as he continued. "Is that what it was? Did-did I not do _enough_? W-was I n-not _good_ enough? Did-did I f-fail too often at too m-many things? I-is it because I never truly mastered math? Or . . . or the ax! It's because I can't use an ax as a weapon, isn't it? Or . . . I-I-I don't know. Tell me what else I have done wrong, Uncle! I _swear_ that I will try harder to perfect. I . . . I know that I can't do it but . . . but maybe I can be just good enough to earn your love. Please let me try!" Fíli watched with baited breath as Thorin's head fell into his hands and his fingers tangled in his hair, pulling roughly at it while his shoulders shook and felt his own heart freeze in his chest. His uncle was so furious with him that he was shaking. He felt himself go cold as he realized that yet again he had failed. In his desperation he had ruined any chance that he may have ever had. There was no way that his uncle could love him after this latest show of weakness. The only sound was a rushing in his ears that drowned out even his own sobs.

"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry, Uncle," Fíli finally managed to choke out. "I'll just . . . I'll go away now. I'm sorry."

"Stop!" Thorin snapped as Fíli rose to his feet and out of long habit of following his uncle's commands, Fíli froze. "Just stop." Thorin said harshly. Fíli hung his head in shame, unable to look at his uncle and see the disappointment that he knew would be there but he made no further move to leave. It would do no good at any rate. It wasn't as if he could change the truth by running away.

"Fíli," Thorin said steadily trying to get his nephew to look at him and feeling the shattered pieces of his heart break into powder as he saw the crystal drops fall from Fíli's eyes. "Fíli, look at me." His nephew made a small noise of protest in his throat and Thorin repeated his command. "Look at me, lad." So slowly that Thorin knew he was loathe to do it, Fíli raised his head and opened his eyes.

Once he did, Fíli was surprised to see tears in his uncle's eyes. Never before had he seen his uncle cry, not since the night Kíli was born. Just as he had then, Fíli reached out a finger and scooped up one of the tears. Unlike then, however, this time the motion was tentative, though the confusion on his face was the same as it had been then. He looked at the tear on his finger before turning his hand and showing it to Thorin.

"Uncle?" Fíli whispered just as he had the first time. Here, however things took a different turn. "Why . . . are you in pain?" The sheer lack of understanding in Fíli's voice broke Thorin and before he thought it fully through, he had grabbed Fíli's wrist and tugged his nephew into his lap, savagely pressing down his own pain as he tried to hold Fíli there.

"Uncle!" Fíli protested attempting to right himself, "you'll only injure yourself! Your wounds!"

"I don't care," Thorin rasped. "It's no less than I deserve for what I've done to you." His mind whispered that it was fitting that Fíli had been the one to injure him so but he knew better than to say as much to his distraught nephew.

"Fíli, my sweet _foolish_ boy," Thorin breathed, burying his nose in the golden hair that had so unfairly caused so much pain to his nephew. "Fíli, you don't have to _earn_ love, lad. If you have to . . . then it's not love. You may have to work to regain it but . . . you should _never_ have to work to gain it from your family." He winced as Fíli dug his fingers into the shirt he wore and clung to him yet again.

"Then why did I never have your love?" Fíli whispered, begging for answers as he always had.

"You had it, lad," Thorin promised. "I have _always _loved you. I . . . I . . ." Thorin paused with a sigh and realized that there was no way to explain this other than to do it. He quickly glanced over at the others and realized that they were all still eating or napping, with the notable exception of Kíli and Dwalin who were nowhere to be seen. He briefly wondered where they had gotten to before he pushed it from his mind and turned his full attention on Fíli once more.

"I have a confession to make to you, lad," Thorin whispered. "One that I should have made long ago to myself. I'm ashamed to say that I did not even realize it until it was pointed out to me yesterday, first by you and then again by Balin. I did not realize that I had pushed you away, Fíli. I know that nothing I can say can make it up to you but . . . I only ask that you hear me out and then you can do with me what you will." He waited until Fíli nodded against him before he tried to take a deep breath only to end up swearing vehemently.

"This can wait until you are feeling better, Uncle," Fíli offered attempting to sit up once more.

"No it cannot!" Thorin snarled refusing to free him though the effort of holding him there made his shoulders throb. "It has waited longer than it should have. Just give me a moment to collect my thoughts." He felt Fíli nod again and decided that he knew where he needed to start.

"I told you that you have done nothing wrong," Thorin began sadly. "And that is true. _You_ did nothing to make me distant with you; _that_ was done by another, long ago." He had to pause to swallow before he could continue. He had not spoken of Frerin—truly spoken of him—in years but he knew that now was the time.

"My brother, my _golden_-_haired_ brother, is the cause of it," Thorin continued. "Or more aptly, my guilt and pain over his death. Fíli . . . I . . . I as good as killed him. I was responsible for the death of my little brother." Thorin had to close his eyes at the admission. He knew that it was true, but the only other person he had ever spoken those words to was Dís and she refused to believe it. Fíli . . . he would not have the same reservations as his mother.

"W-what?" Fíli breathed incredulously. "You can't've. You would never have—"

"I did," Thorin cut him off harshly. "The night before the battle . . . Frerin and I were alone in our tent. He _begged_ me to talk with our father and grandfather about calling off the war. Told me that there was no need for it, no need for _children_ to be thrown into a pitched battle. I . . ."

"You didn't do it," Fíli supplied gently. "You didn't talk to them for him. Is that why you think you killed him? Uncle . . . no offence, but that is foolish."

"No, Fíli," Thorin said sadly. "It wasn't just that I refused to talk to them, which I did but . . . I said cruel things to him. Such _cruel_ things! I . . . I called him a coward," Thorin paused for a humorless, pain-filled laugh, "I said that he was _useless_ and unworthy of his place in the succession and that he had better hope that he died the next day if I did because our people would never follow such a weakling. I . . . I told him . . . I told him that—Mahal!— I told him that no brother of mine could be such a coward and that I never wanted to see him again." He paused and drew in a shuddering breath before he could continue.

"I _disowned_ my brother the night before he died," Thorin whispered. "I don't know when or how he fell but I know that he died _knowing_ that his older brother hated him and wanted nothing more to do with him. I don't know how much that knowledge played into his death, but I know that his full focus could not have been on the battle: a battle he never wanted to be in. Frerin . . . Frerin was only forty-eight. He was still a _child_! and . . . and I left him alone to face the orcs. Alone and believing that he was unloved."

"The look in his eyes as I told him that he was a useless coward . . . it haunts me to this day," Thorin said. "142 years later and when I close my eyes I can still see it. I can still see the pain, the hatred. And then you were born," Thorin added sadly, stroking Fíli's hair. "I still remember when your father showed you to me. Gíli . . . he was _so_ proud of you. But the only thing that I could think of the first time I saw you was how much your hair looked like my brother's had."

"That was part of the reason I insisted you braid it, you know," Thorin admitted with a sheepish smile. "Frerin . . . he was like Kíli in a way. My brother _hated_ braids. You could put them in but before you could turn around they were out once more. Eventually my father gave up and let him leave it unbraided. Seeing yours free . . . it was painful for me. So, I insisted that you wear braids, though I knew how you hated them, and for that I apologize. And that is only the least of my slights against you, my dear sweet nephew. I . . . there are no words that I know to express just how sorry I am for what I have done to you. For all of the things that I failed to do for you, for all the times that I wasn't there for you when you needed me."

Thorin paused and when he spoke again, Fíli could barely hear him, though he was still pressed against his uncle. "I failed you, Fíli," Thorin whispered. "There is nothing else for me to say. I. Failed. You. I never gave you the affection that you deserved and nothing can change that. I . . . I only hope that you can forgive me and allow me a second chance to do things correctly. I promise you that I will never push you away again simply because you remind me too much of another failing of mine. I will not allow history to repeat itself. In _any_ way." His words stirred something in Fíli and he pulled back to stare at his uncle, ignoring Thorin's weak attempts to keep in him place.

"That's what your reaction was about this morning," Fíli said feeling the blankness of his own expression as the truth sank in. "When I tried to offer to protect you and you rejected me. It was about your brother, wasn't it? It wasn't about me. It's never been about me."

"Not entirely," Thorin disagreed. " I am genuinely concerned for your wellbeing but . . . all of the distance that has been . . . that _I've_ put between us . . . it was never your fault, Fíli. I . . . you did nothing to merit such treatment from me, other than be born looking too much like someone else that I had wronged." Rather than provide the comfort that Thorin had believed they would, his words hit Fíli like a blow as the truth of the matter sank in: his uncle would never be able to love him the way that he could Kíli. All of his work at being perfect, at doing things just so in the hope that his uncle would come to love him as he did Kíli . . . it was useless. No matter what he did he would still look like his dead uncle. Nothing could change that. Everything he had ever done was worthless. He felt pain grip his chest at the realization before it turned to anger.

"You . . . you made me believe that I was not good enough," Fíli breathed glaring at his uncle through his hair. "You . . . because of you I . . . I _knew_ that I wasn't good enough. No matter what Mother or Kíli said . . . all I wanted from you was just a _hint_ of the affection that you so freely gave to Mother and Kíli. I . . . I _never_ understood what I had done to cause you to take what little of it I had gotten away. And . . . and you mean to tell me that . . . that _ALL _of it was because . . . _none_ of it had to do with me?! I didn't do ANYTHING to deserve your coldness and nothing I could have done would have prevented it? Just because I was born with blonde hair?!"

"Fíli," Thorin said reaching for his nephew only to have his hand swatted away and for Fíli to look at him more coldly than he ever had before. "Please."

"Not this time," Fíli snarled. "I . . . I could have let it go if I had done something but . . . _why_ . . . what made you think that this would make it better? Why did you think that I would be happier knowing that it was not my own lack of worth by rather _your_ issues that took you away from me? Especially after I've spent the last _seventy years_ believing that I was just not good enough for you to love me. Why didn't you ever think to tell me, to tell Mother?! She thinks that you are cold towards me as a means of molding me into a king not because—" Fíli cut himself off, not wanting to twist the knife in the wound even now. Though he felt resentment and pain towards his uncle, he could still not bring himself to hate Thorin, not in his present condition. He wasn't sure that Thorin would survive his hatred and some small part of him wanted his uncle to survive so that they could have this out like true dwarves when they were both well and whole once more. His uncle owed him no less. He would ensure that his uncle survived if only so that it could happen.

"I can't believe that . . . I used to want to be just like you, you know," Fíli whispered, his left hand reaching up to unclasp the braids that Thorin had put there only moments before. He looked directly into his uncle's blue eyes as he continued. "I tried to do everything just as you did. That's why I chose many of the paths in life I did. Did you know that I have worn fresh braids every day just to try to please you? Or that I never climbed trees after the time I fell when I was seven and you told me that true dwarves did not climb because even though I enjoyed it I wanted to be a true dwarf in your eyes? Did you know that I wasn't drawn to the sword as a weapon initially, that I liked the feel of a bow in my hands as much as Kíli does? I _chose_ to master swords _because_ it was the weapon _you_ favored. That's why I also carry throwing knives. I like the security of a ranged attack, the safety of it. I modeled my life after yours and now . . . now I see that I modeled it after a lie. All the aloofness that I thought was part of kingship . . . it's not, is it? Is it, Uncle? It's really just a way for you to keep others out, isn't it?"

Thorin sat there in silence, he hadn't known any of that. He hadn't known that he had affected his nephew's life so drastically. He had thought that Fíli had made the choice he had made in life because he wanted to, not because he felt obligated to. With a sad shake of his head Thorin breathed the words that he knew would fix nothing.

"I don't know," he whispered unable to look away from the pain and anger smoldering in Fíli's eyes. "I'm not sure of anything anymore, Fíli. Not truly."

"Neither am I," Fíli replied simply as he began unbraiding the clasp-free hair. He sat there, staring at his uncle with his blonde hair flowing freely around his face for a moment with an indecipherable expression on his face before he stood and walked to where the others were sitting. Thorin watched him walk away before picking the small silver clasps up from where Fíli had allowed them to fall and closing his hands around them tightly enough that he could feel the etchings imprinting on his palms. Though it had pained him to watch Fíli undo his braids, he knew that it was less than he deserved for what he had done. He turned his face away from the company so that none would see the bitter tears that fell from his eyes at the realization that there was nothing that he could do to fix this. He truly had lost everything. Even if he survived . . . there was nothing left for him. Not in this life or the afterlife. And he found that it was rather fitting. After all, _he_ was nothing.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Hello all! I have a new chapter for you! (and a long one at that!) Sorry it took a bit longer than normal, this one was hard for me to write for some reason :/ Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed it!**

**Now for some very belated review replies**

**Chapter 22:**

**1monster2:****Thank you so much! I'm glad you like Dwalin bodily hauling Kili from camp :) And yeah ... Dwalin wouldn't like hearing that one bit XD.**

**Allison:**** You are doing quite well with the speaking as well :) And thank you so much! I'm glad that you are enjoying it. I love to pull out different facets and see what I can make happen :) And poor Kili indeed :( And your english was perfectly understandable (And if it really is too much trouble, I can read Spansh even if my written Spanish is very bad (Don't believe me see the translation I am attempting XD)) Saludos desde Oklahoma!**

**Anybody:**** I'm doing well, thank you for asking :) The first think that I want to say is thank you so much for your review. It was ... heart wrenching to read. I am so sorry that you have experienced anything at all like this from your family but I am glad that it has helped you to release tension. I'm afraid that this chapter won't do anything to help you but ... I am glad that I have been able to. And while personal, it was not TOO personal. I did enjoy seeing that I am impacting your life (though it did up the pressure to do justice by this story a bit) as I work through my own personal issues in my own family dynamics. And thank you so much for your kind words. And my time is yours whenever you need it. Your English was no barrier to my understanding of your comment. I hope that this story continues to help you. **

**Chapter 23**

**Allister:**** No problems :) I'm glad that you loved the chapter and I think it's pretty much what most people were expecting :( Poor Kili. And they will all suffer, fear not! **

**There we are all, all the anonomouys reviews have been replied to and signed review replies are on the way :) I hope that you enjoyed this new chapter and thank you all so much for sticking with me as school has gotten crazy :) As always I would love to hear what you think!**

**Stickdonkeys**


	25. An Explanation Why it Continued

Dwalin watched in shock as Kíli dissolved before him, guilt flooding his veins. He had meant to make Kíli feel remorse, but not to reduce him to _this_. Then, as suddenly as he had sunk to the ground, Kíli was on his feet. He glanced around him with wild eyes for a moment and then he was running. It took Dwalin a second to realize that Kíli was running _away _from camp but once he did he, too, was in motion as he attempted to run down his twice wounded cousin.

Kíli felt a sob rise up his throat as he heard Dwalin crashing through the underbrush behind him. Couldn't Dwalin see that he needed to leave? Fighting back his sobs, he tried desperately to find a bit more speed. He knew that, with his longer legs, Dwalin would catch him easily if this remained a sprint but if he could turn it into a foot race, well, then he stood a chance of escape. It had always been that way. Kíli's slimmer build gave him the advantage in distance and endurance. If he could outdistance Fíli in the first few moments he could win, if not ... well, Fíli had always been stronger and faster in short distances but if Kíli could evade him long enough, Fíli would tire and he would win. He only hoped that Dwalin would be the same.

It was a brilliant plan and would have worked beautifully save for one fact: Kíli's injuries. Try as he might, he was unable to coax speed from himself and only managed to run a short distance before Dwalin tackled him to the ground, twisting them in the air so that his own body took the brunt of the fall as he had when Kíli was small. Despite having the air forced from his lungs when they hit, Dwalin held firm as Kíli writhed against him. It was clear that he was desperate to be free but for the life of him Dwalin could not understand why, and to be truthful, neither could Kíli. He didn't know _why_ he needed to flee only that it was imperative that he do so. As soon as h realized that Dwalin was not going to free him, he felt rage coil within him once more, this time directed at his cousin.

"Let me go!" Kíli snarled continuing to writhe in Dwalin's hold despite the pain the friction it created caused him. "Damn it, Dwalin, let me go!"

"No," the older dwarf replied stubbornly, grunting as one of Kíli's elbows managed to burry itself in his side. "You're not going anywhere. Not until you've calmed enough that you won't do anything foolish. Thorin and Dís'd have my head if I let you get yourself killed."

"They wouldn't care!" Kíli snapped redoubling his efforts to be free despite the blood he could feel beginning to trickle down his back. He even went as far as attempting to bite his cousin in hopes of being released.

"They'd care," Dwalin promised, moving his arm down Kíli's chest so that it was out of reach of his teeth. "And don't bite. That's not fair, lad."

"After what I've done they _shouldn't_ care!" Kíli retorted. "And I thought you once told me that anything was fair in a fight." Dwalin chose not to dignify that last statement with a reply. He had told Kíli that, but he had prefaced it by saying that all was fair in a fight for your life. This was not that situation and it pained him that Kíli would think it necessary to be free at any cost.

"Rubbish!" Dwalin snapped, allowing his pain at Kíli's actions and foolish beliefs to feed into his words and lend them authority, along with giving his cousin a sharp squeeze to punctuate his opinion on the matter. "Did you not listen to a single word I said or did it just fail to penetrate your _foolish_ skull?! They. Love. You, you idiotic dwarfling. They're not going to stop loving you just because you made a few mistakes."

"And Fíli?" Kíli demanded, his tone and continual writhing revealing his unconvinced state.

"He's pissed, and rightly so," Dwalin replied. "_But_ he still loves you." For half a second Kíli stilled and Dwalin breathed a sigh of relief, but then Kíli was once more struggling to be free like a thing possessed. "Kíli, stop that! I'm not lettin' go, lad. You're only going to hurt yourself. I don't _want_ to hurt you!"

"Then let me go!" Kíli yelled before he shifted tactics and instead of yelling tried to plead with his cousin for release. "Please, Dwalin, please let me go. I just . . . I can't . . . _please_ let me go." Suddenly Kíli's mind was filled with another voice, that of his brother the day before_._

_"No," Fíli sobbed. "Please, __please__ just go away. I-I-I can't . . . I can't do this right now, Kíli. __Please__ leave me alone."_

At the memory, a sob rose up Kíli's throat at the desperate look that had been in Fíli's eyes at the time. The way his hands had shook and his lip trembled as he tried to control himself. Only now did Kíli truly realize just how desperate his brother had been to be alone. Now he understood why Fíli had lashed out the way he had. It wasn't what Kíli had said. Not really. No, he had felt trapped. Kíli had backed him into a corner and he had reacted. He remembered the shock and horror in Fíli's eyes as he had looked from Kíli's bleeding face to the knife in his hand and the quaver in his voice as he had spoken: _"I didn't mean to," he had said "I swear it. I would never—"; "It wasn't anger," he had promised, begging Kíli to understand. "It was panic. Kíli, I'm so sorry. I—"_

But Kíli hadn't understood. He had never experienced such a blind need to flee before and had been unable to understand. Now he did. Now he understood that he had trapped his brother, just the same as Dwalin was trapping him now, and when Fíli had lashed out to be free—as Kíli had a bit ago—he had been punished for it. It was his fault that his brother had been punished. Not Thorin's, not truly even Fíli's. It was his. He felt all the fight drain out of him and his limbs go limp as he realized how much he had almost cost his brother through his own stupidity. He was worthless.

Even when Kíli stilled once more, Dwalin kept a tight grip on him, thinking it to be a ruse. It was only when the young dwarf went completely limp in his arms that he realized that Kíli truly had give up this ridiculous notion of running away.

"Kíli?" Dwalin asked nudging the limp dwarfling in his arms, fearful of letting him go even now. Kíli gave no reply and only his continued breathing revealed that he still lived.

"Kíli, get up, lad," Dwalin tried again, striving to be both gentle and firm at the same time. "It's time we get back to the others. I carried you out of camp and have no intention of hauling you back as well."

"Then leave me here," Kíli muttered in response. "I don't deserve to go back." Dwalin's heart broke at the desolation in the young heir's voice. Kíli truly believed that, just as Thorin had_. Perhaps Kíli developed more than just Thorin's temper after all, _Dwalin thought with a sigh as he wished yet again that Kíli had picked something other than his uncle's negativity as a second trait to emulate. He also wondered at the fact that he had never seen the similarities between them before.

"And what would you do if I did, hm?" Dwalin asked, trying to keep the pain of his new realizations to himself. "You're in no condition to hunt even if you did have your bow. You've _never_ been good at foraging, not that I blame you. All you get that way is nuts, berries and greens, but that's beside the point. And, in case you've forgotten, we're being trailed by an orc pack. No offence, lad, but just what do you think you'll do if _they_ find you alone?" Kíli said nothing in response and his silence spoke volumes. Dwalin knew that Kíli knew what fate would await him at their hands and he also knew that Kíli didn't care. Kíli _wanted _to die.

With a deep sigh, Dwalin bodily shifted Kíli so that he was more cradled than sprawled. He hated to do it and risk aggravating the wounds that he _knew_ Kíli had to have reopened in his struggles but he felt that he needed to be able to see Kíli's face and gage his response to what was about to be said. Even so, it broke his heart to see just how listless Kíli truly was, seeming to lack the energy to even hold his own head up, instead allowing it to lull onto Dwalin's shoulder pathetically.

Dwalin gently gasped Kíli's chin in his right hand with a sigh and tipped the heir's face up towards him. Kíli met his eyes, the usually bright brown orbs dull and shallow. Dwalin flinched slightly at the lack of life in Kíli but quickly schooled his features.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question, lad," Dwalin said sternly. "I'm not my brother. If I take the time to ask a question I want an answer. Now, tell me, what would you do if the orcs found you alone?" Kíli blinked at him a couple of times before he spoke, his voice so quiet that the words were almost lost.

"I'd die," Kíli replied in a no-nonsense tone that was more painful for the lack of passion in it.

"Painfully, Kíli," Dwalin said gently, unable to stop the pain from showing on his face at the thought. He was only more worried when Kíli showed no reaction to his addition. "You would _eventually_ die in a _ very_ painful manner. You . . . you haven't ever seen what orcs _do_ to dwarves, Kíli. It—" Dwalin paused to shudder at the memories of the corpses he had seen after the Battle of Azanulbizar.

"It . . . It's no way to die, Kíli," Dwalin finally managed to say. "Take the worst thing that you have ever _heard_ that orcs do and multiply it tenfold. We . . . we never told you the half of it, lad. Orcs don't just kill they . . . once they're done with them . . . the bodies . . . they aren't recognizable, Kíli. And I don't just mean that you can't tell _who _they were; I've seen corpses , and soon-to-be-corpses, so mangled that I couldn't even tell _what_ they used to be."

"And that was after a battle, Kíli," Dwalin continued. "A battle where they had to move on fairly quickly to keep from being killed themselves. If they captured you and had _time_ . . . it's not a fate you would want, lad. Trust me. In fact, if we can't escape them or defeat them, I'll commit suicide before I allow them to take me." Even through his numbness Kíli felt shock at the statement. To commit suicide was the most ignoble thing that you could do. It barred you from the Halls of Mandos. No self-respecting dwarf committed suicide. But even the shock of his cousin's admission of plans to kill himself, Kíli could not break free of his pain.

"It can't hurt more than this," Kíli replied. "It can't hurt more than living with what I've done." He tried to look away from the haunted look in his cousin's dark eyes as he spoke, but Dwalin's hold on his jaw was inescapable.

"It can," Dwalin promised darkly. "At least you still know your own name." Kíli scoffed in response.

"Lot of good _that_ does me," Kíli spat. "I am Kíli, son of Dís, betrayer of his own _brother_."

"You didn't betray your brother," Dwalin sighed exasperatedly.

"I didn't?" Kíli asked incredulously. "Then what do _you_ call what I did?! I. Betrayed. Him, Dwalin. I betrayed him and I can't ever do anything to fix it."

Before Kíli could process what was happening, Dwalin was on his feet glaring down at Kíli, who had been unceremoniously dumped off the larger dwarf's lap when he moved. Dwalin stood there for a second before he began pacing and gesturing angrily while swearing vehemently—and fluently—in Khuzdul. Even through his pain and shame Kíli had to blush at some of the _vile_ things that Dwalin was saying. Eventually he calmed a bit and rounded on Kíli once more.

"I'm done!" he shouted. "I am DONE! Do you hear me?! I am _sick_ of having this conversation! I've had it with _you_; I've had it with Thorin and I'm _not_ having it anymore! I'm DONE!"

"You've had it with Uncle?" Kíli asked in confusion, having missed the point entirely in his surprise that Dwalin had had the conversation they were now having with his uncle and wondering why they had had it.

"Multiple times!" Dwalin snarled. "First about Frerin and Thráin all those years ago. How your _fool_ uncle got it into his head that it was his fault I will never know but Mahal himself could not change his mind now. Stubborn bastard. But _you_. You're not letting this eat you alive, Kíli. I won't watch it happen a second time. You. did. not. betray Fíli. Betrayal requires _intent_. There was no intent there, lad. Only the stupid, rash behavior of an idiotic dwarfling."

"I can't deny that, lad," Dwalin said more gently. "You behaved callously and foolishly. _Stupidly_ even, but you did not betray him."

"He would disagree with you," Kíli whispered looking away from the intensity in his cousin's dark eyes. "_He _thinks I betrayed him. He hates me." In a rush Dwalin was there, gripping Kíli's arms and hauling the younger dwarf to his feet. His fingers dug painfully into the bruises that Fíli had left there the day before but Kíli said nothing knowing that it was less than he deserved.

"Now you _listen_ to me, Kíli," Dwalin growled, his face inches from Kíli's. "Your brother _does not_ hate you. I don't know that he has it in him to hate _anyone_, but even if he did it wouldn't be you. It could _never_ be _you_. Don't look at me like that. I spoke to him after he woke after I knocked him unconscious yesterday. Even _knowing_ that he was about to be punished for his actions his _first_ question was about _you. _ He didn't even care about what was going to happen to him, even as I sat right beside him sharpening a knife. All he wanted to know was if you were alright and if I thought the mark he left on you would scar. He couldn't hate you, Kíli. It would be easier for him if he could." As abruptly as he had been grabbed, Kíli found himself released and he toppled over at the suddenness of it as his cousin began pacing once more.

"You asked me if I'd seen Fíli lately and I have," Dwalin said his face twisted with emotion and anger coloring his words as he continued. "_I _was the one who held his arm and tried to comfort him when your uncle threatened to shave off his beard. _I_ was the one who held him after his nightmares and wiped away his tears and soothed his fears._ I _was _always_ the one he came to when . . ." he paused and shook his head angrily to clear it as he blew out a breath through his nose.

"You don't think I saw just as clearly as you did just how readily Fíli fell into Thorin's gestures of affection?" Dwalin demanded. "You don't think I care for your brother enough that if there was even a _hint_ of insincerity in your uncle that I wouldn't say something? I am neither blind nor stupid, Kíli, despite what you seem to think. I _know_ how you fear for Fíli. I _know._ But I also know that it is unnecessary this time. I assure you that Thorin is _quite_ repentant. He will _never_ treat your brother so callously again."

"Why?" Kíli demanded glaring up at his cousin.

"Why won't he?!" Dwalin scoffed. "Mahal, Kíli! Thorin's not heartless! You should know that better than anyone! He's always been warm towards _you_. He knows that he made a mistake. Thorin's many things but a fool is not one of them. Now that he knows he will never do it again. Thorin's got issues but he _loves_ your brother, Kíli."

"You misunderstood my question," Kíli replied sadly. "I wasn't talking about Uncle. I meant _you_. If you see and know _so_ much and care for Fíli _so_ much why did you allow this to continue. I didn't know. I know that's not an excuse but . . . had I have . . . I would have at least _tried_ to put a stop to it. Why didn't you?"

Dwalin sighed and ran a hand over his face. He had halfway hoped that Kíli would not ask him that. He knew that the young heir, neither of them, was not going to like the answer.

"Kíli," he sighed coming to kneel before the younger dwarf and taking his hand as he begged him to understand. "There is no good answer for this, lad. The simple one," he paused to give a dry, mirthless laugh, "the simplest answer is that it was your uncle. I know that to you he is _just_ Thorin. He is just the dwarf that has loved you since you were born, raised you, bandaged your hurts. I know that you only see him as a parent." Kíli opened his mouth but Dwalin cut him off.

"I _know_ that you are aware of his status among our people, but, Kíli, it's never really affected you," Dwalin said. "You are family. Even if you said or did things that were . . . inappropriate, the worst that you could expect would be a tanning. No doubt an unpleasant one, but you would survive it." Dwalin let out a snort of a laugh before he said, "Who am I kidding? I doubt Thorin ever raised a hand to you. You could probably get away with whatever you wanted to." Kíli looked away at the truth of the words. He couldn't ever remember his uncle punishing him. His mother had but never his uncle, and Thorin had never been around when Dís did, he always found somewhere else he urgently needed to be and only came back later once it was over.

"You're family too," Kíli argued, feeling that it was a weak explanation. "You said as much earlier."

"I'm not family in the same way you and Fíli are, lad," Dwalin replied. "I'm a distant cousin, not direct blood kin. I know that you don't truly see the difference but there is one."

"So you let him do it because you were afraid of him?" Kíli asked trying to understand.

"That's an oversimplification but yes," the older dwarf agreed. "Now, don't get me wrong, lad; Thorin's no despot. He is a just and fair ruler, I have no qualms with him about that. And it's not as if I never tried. More than once Balin and I tried to convince Thorin that Fíli would benefit from the same freedom that you were given, or even a tiny bit of praise but Thorin always shut off when we did. We . . . we didn't want to push him, Kíli. I know that it was not fair of us. It was not fair to Fíli but he . . . he never seemed to notice the difference. He _never_ hinted that he knew there was a difference." Dwalin's breathing was beginning to become more heavy and Kíli could have sworn that he saw tears in his cousin's eyes.

"If I would have _known_," Dwalin cried, "If he would have just given a _hint_. If he would have said _one_ word to me . . . I would have confronted Thorin, consequences be damned. As it was . . . we made a choice, Kíli. I can't justify it. I can't explain it in a way that will satisfy you because it was the wrong decision but it was the only one that we could make."

"We _needed_ Thorin, lad," Dwalin said. "We couldn't afford to have him shut us all out. And that's what _would_ have happened. It nearly did one day. I tried to make him see what he had done by bringing up Frerin and Thorin . . . he . . . he shut off, Kíli. He froze. His eyes were completely blank and he only snapped out of it when I fetched Dís and had her fix it. Thorin was _traumatized _ by the death of his brother, Kíli. Deeper than any of us know. He's never recovered, not really, but that doesn't absolve us of what we did. _We_ betrayed Fíli, not you. _We_ were the ones that made the conscious decision to keep Thorin sane at your brother's expense."

"We didn't know what kind of damage we had done until yesterday," Dwalin promised. "You _have_ to believe me, lad. I _love_ your brother like he was my own. You have no idea how it hurt me to have no choice but to sit back and watch as Fíli struggled under the pressures that Thorin put on him even if he didn't seem to suffer from them. I _wanted_ to help him. I did everything that I could without openly defying your uncle. I only wish I had done more. I _should_ have done more. I failed him." With those last words, he bowed his head and placed it on Kíli's hand in his grasp, waiting for what Kíli would say in response.

Seeing someone as proud as Dwalin kneeling before him, pleading for understanding and forgiveness made Kíli's stomach twist uncomfortably. It seemed wrong that someone he had such respect for would beg him for anything. What almost made him feel worse was the realization that he couldn't give Dwalin what he wanted; the forgiveness he craved wasn't Kíli's to give, nor was anger for the actions his to hold.

"I'm sorry, Dwalin," Kíli whispered. "I . . . I can't forgive you." Dwalin nodded, he had expected no less. Forgiveness wasn't in Thorin's nature; with all the similarities they shared, it made sense that it wasn't in Kíli's either.

"It's alright, lad," Dwalin replied, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "I didn't expect you to."

"I-I would if I could," Kíli offered with a sad smile. "It-It's just that . . . it's not mine to give. Just as vengeance isn't mine to take. If you really want forgiveness, you need to tell Fíli what you just told me. But . . . please, don't do it yet. I . . . I know it's not right of me to ask you to delay your quest for forgiveness but . . . don't do it." Kíli paused trying to regain control of himself. He refused to cry. He was done crying.

"Fíli . . . just . . . let him be happy for a bit, please?" Kíli asked. "I know that I . . . I _can't _ask this of you but . . . please? This . . . it'll destroy him to know that all of you allowed this. I . . . just let him have this little bit of peace, for me?" Dwalin had to smile at the change that had come over the youngest heir in the span of a few minutes. Maybe there was hope for Kíli yet. He was at least beginning to think of others. That was a good place to start.

"I can do that, lad," Dwalin replied. "I've waited this long, I can stand to wait a bit longer. Do you think you're ready to head back now?" Kíli nodded, offering the older dwarf a small smile.

"I think I am," Kíli said rising slowly to his feet with a grimace. He was truly beginning to feel the results of his writhing and regretted it both because he was ashamed of his actions and because he had injured himself in the process.

"Are you alright, lad," Dwalin asked, concern wrinkling his brow as he watched Kíli move gingerly. Kíli swallowed and tried to mask his pain behind a smile as he nodded.

"I'm fine," Kíli panted. "Let's head back." Dwalin nodded. He could tell that Kíli was lying to him, but he did not confront him on it. If he wanted to be in pain that was his own affair. _Lad's as stubborn as Thorin too,_ Dwalin thought with a smirk. This was at least one trait that was admirable when it was directed in the right way. Ignoring pain could be a very useful skill.

They were nearly back when Kíli stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. Dwalin looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Kíli swallowed before he spoke. "Do . . . do you think Fíli will be alright?" Kíli asked, sounding much younger than he was once again. "I mean . . . you said that Uncle is traumatized from one brutal day . . . will Fíli . . . will he . . ."

"I don't know, Kíli," Dwalin replied. "No one can know for sure." Kíli's face fell at his honesty and Dwalin tapped the side of his face to get his attention. "But, Kíli, there's always hope, lad. No one's dead this time. It's not a lost cause."

"Where there's life there's hope," Kíli whispered, echoing Dís' favorite statement as they were growing up.

"Aye, lad," Dwalin whispered. "Where there's life there's hope. And there's still life here. Let's try to keep it that way." Kíli offered him a sad smile as they walked back to the fire, Kíli hoping that someone had thought to save them some of the food that he could smell wafting back to them.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter :) Hopefully it was worth the wait :) Iwill try to get one out next week but ... it looks insane so we'll have to see. **

**As always, thank you to those of you who took the time to leave me a review! I don't say this enough but ... you all rock!**

**Allister:**** Not a problem at all! You took the time to leave me a review, the least I can do is reply to it, right? And I am glad that I could take at least one worry from you :) And yep... they have communication issues. Poor dears :( And thank you so much! I am glad that you are enjoying the all the details and little intricacies for each of them :) I hope that this new chapter was worth the wait!**

**And that's all for now folks, as always, I would love to know what you thought**

**Stickdonkeys **


	26. Deep Confusion, Hair Clasps & Depression

After he stormed away from his uncle, Fíli sat himself by the fire and stared into the flames trying to make sense of his chaotic thoughts. He was troubled to discover that the task was beyond him. In the past, whenever he had been angry he had tried to think about what his uncle would do in such a position but now . . . that thought brought him no comfort. And that left him with a dilemma. What did _he_, Fíli son of Dís, intend to do about this. It was something that he had never had to think of before.

In the past, there had always been a clear answer. Any problem could be solved by asking himself 'what would a _true_ dwarf do in this situation?' but now . . . now he had no idea what a true dwarf _was,_ let alone what one would do. Never before had he felt so lost or confused in his entire life. _Everything_ that he had ever believed to be true had just been revealed to be a lie. He wasn't a failure. He hadn't done anything wrong. His uncle wasn't ashamed of him and didn't think that he was the shame of the line of Durin.

It was what he had _longed_ to hear his entire life but it didn't make him feel better about himself. Rather, it only served to confuse him more. If he wasn't a failure why hadn't his uncle been able to see _him_ rather than his dead uncle. Why hadn't Thorin been able to see _Fíli_? He knew that it was pathetic but he wished that he could go back just ten minutes and stop his uncle from telling him about Frerin. It was easier to believe that he was a failure than to know that despite all his efforts to be noticed and seen as a true dwarf, his uncle had never seen him at all. It had been easier to understand that he had earned the coolness through failure than to have to face the fact that nothing he could have done could ever have been good enough to earn him love. How was failing to earn love not a sign of deeper failures on his part? Fíli didn't even know what to believe about himself now.

He may not have known how he felt about himself in light of this revelation, but he was sure of one thing; he was _furious_ with his uncle. As strange as it was, he wasn't as angry with his uncle for having behaved as he had but more for thinking that he could explain it away and make everything better. He wondered how his uncle could have ever thought that _that_ explanation would help anything and he was furious that Thorin thought it could. But mixed in with the fury at his uncle was fury at himself.

Despite what Thorin had just said—which his mother had been saying for years—Fíli _knew_ that there had to be something wrong with him. Despite _everything_ that his uncle had done, all the years of favoritism and coldness and the insecurity that came from it, Fíli couldn't bring himself to hate his uncle. When he tried, the only thing that he could see was the pride that had been in his uncle's eyes in the Goblin Cave. The _pride_ that his uncle had looked on him with as Fíli had inflicted unimaginable pain on him. When he tried to reach for hatred to comfort himself he couldn't get past the _pride_ that had been in his uncle's dark blue eyes as he had tortured their owner to save Kíli. Pride, approval, _love_. Fíli couldn't hate someone that could look at him like that while suffering at his own hands.

Nor could he hate someone who had been willing to endure so much to protect someone they both loved. There was no doubt in Fíli's mind that their uncle had saved Kíli from pain if not from death itself. _More pain_, he mentally amended as he watched his brother limp into camp followed closely by Dwalin. No, Fíli couldn't bring himself to hate Thorin, even if he might deserve it. Not after what he did for Kíli.

Kíli. He wasn't sure how he felt about his brother either. He was still hurt by what Kíli had said to him the day before. The words had stung and hit far too close to home for comfort; hadn't Fíli always known that he wasn't worthy of his place in the succession or in the line of Durin? It had felt like Kíli had finally seen the truth. That he had seen past his perfect image of his big brother and seen the weak, cowardly failure below and that Kíli had rejected him for his faults, just as he had always known that their uncle had. If he was honest with himself, he had always feared it.

Kíli was so very like their uncle and Fíli could remember a time when Thorin had been warm to him. He had always feared that someday Kíli would see whatever failing their uncle had seen and turn from his as well, just like he deserved. And then he had. And it had _hurt_. It had hurt to be disowned like that, especially given that what turned Kíli against him was the sacrifice of Fíli's own principles for Kíli's sake. It still hurt that Kíli could say what he had, _think_ what he had. It would probably always hurt but he wasn't angry with Kíli. Not anymore.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Kíli had only reacted just as he always had. Kíli was predictable. If he was in pain, he lashed out. Afterwards, when he regretted it, he clung to whomever he had lashed out at in an attempt to make up for his mistakes and show his love. That was how it always went. And Fíli had always forgiven him in the past. Kíli had only followed the familiar pattern, this time it was Fíli who had broken it. _He_ had been unpredictable. Rather than forgive Kíli, Fíli had taken his turn to lash out in pain and had hurt his brother. Again, Kíli's reaction could have been predicted. He was hurt, he lashed out. Only, this time, no clinging behavior had followed because Fíli was unpredictable and Kíli feared him.

He felt bitter bile rise up his throat as he realized for the first time that his baby brother _feared_ him. And it was his fault. _He _was the one who had lashed out at Kíli for trying to help him. _He_ was the one who had sliced open his brother's face and spilled his blood. It was all his fault. His mother and Uncle were wrong. There was something wrong with him. There had to be something wrong with someone who could turn on their own brother as he had. Thoughts of Kíli had summoned the memory of the last time he had been near his brother, as he stormed off to go to their uncle. All he could see was the fear in Kíli's brown eyes and the way his hand had unconsciously crept to the wound on his cheek. Even though the pain and anger at Kíli were still there, they were overshadowed with regret for what Fíli's actions had taken from them. And he had no idea what to do about it.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Upon walking into camp, Kíli noticed two things simultaneously: Fíli had moved away from their uncle and his braids were still out. It didn't make any sense. Kíli had _seen_ their uncle braiding his brother's hair. Why wasn't it braided?

He was vaguely aware of someone pressing a bowl into his hands and him closing them around it, but he didn't touch the food. He couldn't tear his eyes from his brother's unbound blonde hair. Even he had only ever rarely seen it free and dry and now Fíli was sitting in the middle of camp with it hanging loosely around his face before them all. It didn't make sense. Fíli took _pride_ in maintaining his braids. For him to sit there as he was—

"Kíli?" he heard Dwalin say beside him and looked sharply up at his cousin, only just realizing that he had been staring at his brother. "You need to eat," Dwalin said gruffly. Kíli made a noncommittal noise in his throat and went right back to staring at Fíli. This time, Dwalin followed the path of Kíli's eye and realized that the young dwarf hadn't just been staring off into nothing as he had thought.

"Kíli, lad, why are you staring at him?" Dwalin sighed. "Are you _trying_ to arouse his temper? You know how he hates to be stared at."

"His hair's down," Kíli replied as though that explained away why he was doing something that he knew agitated his brother.

"Aye, it is," Dwalin agreed. He had to admit that it was odd as well but none of the others was staring at Fíli and Kíli should have known better that to do it. Especially with Fíli's present unpredictability. "What of it?"

"He never wears it down," Kíli said with the same tone as before, his eyes never straying from his brother.

"No, he doesn't," Dwalin said. "I still don't understand why you're staring at him though, lad."

"He never wears it down," Kíli repeated agitation beginning to creep into his tone that Dwalin was not understanding that Fíli was doing something so out of his character that Kíli was both perplexed and fascinated by it.

"That doesn't explain what _you're_ doing, Kíli," Dwalin replied, a bit of exasperation creeping into his own tone. Why did Kíli insist on doing something that he _knew_ upset Fíli, regardless of what Fíli himself was doing.

"It's just that . . . I thought Uncle . . . " Kíli trailed off as he felt jealousy stir in his gut and realized _that_ had been what had set him off earlier. It hadn't been concern for his brother as he had believed but rather jealousy that Fíli would allow their uncle the same intimacies that he had so recently denied Kíli in the clearing even after all the disinterest Thorin had had in him over the years. It hadn't been love or fear, it had been petty jealousy. Kíli felt sick at the realization.

"I thought so too, but clearly not," Dwalin said with a shrug, not realizing that Kíli had just had another mini-epiphany. "Go talk to him if it bothers you so much. Maybe he wants some help. With him used to having it back it has to be bothering him and he can't braid with a broken hand."

"No," Kíli whispered brokenly shaking his head for emphasis. "I . . . I don't have the right to ask. Not after what I did."

"Of course you have the right to ask, you little fool!" Dwalin snapped. "You can always offer and if he doesn't want you to, he'll refuse. But you _always _ have the right to ask. Now, get up, go over there, and _ask_ your brother if he wants you to braid his hair." Kíli looked unconvinced but set his bowl down and did as he was told.

He flinched as Fíli glanced up at his approach and felt his mouth go dry. He suddenly knew that he couldn't do this. He couldn't ask what he had come to, not with Fíli looking at him so sadly. This was a mistake. He should just go back to Dwalin and forget about Fíli's hair.

Fíli watched as Kíli opened and closed his mouth a few times as he waited for his brother to speak. Even once it became clear that Kíli either wouldn't or couldn't, Fíli allowed the silence to stretch between them. When it appeared that Kíli would combust from the pressure, Fíli felt a small smile cross his face before he broke the tension, his voice calm and non-confrontational.

"Do you need something, Kíli, or do you just intend to stand there staring at me?" he asked, wondering just what had gotten into his baby brother.

"I . . . you're hair's loose," Kíli finally managed to choke out.

"It is," Fíli agreed with a shrug. "What of it?"

"Do you . . .that is, can I . . . let me braid it for you," Kíli said, flinching slightly as the last words left his mouth in a rush. He seemed to cringe a bit as he waited for the reply.

"No," Fíli said, the word little more than a snarl. He would _never_ braid his hair again. Not after what he had just been told. Some small part of him hoped, petty as it was, that seeing his hair unbound would cause his uncle some small measure of pain he had caused Fíli over the years. He was so wrapped up in his own bitter thoughts that he didn't see the way that Kíli had reacted to the word. He didn't notice until Kíli spoke and he heard the pain of rejection in his brother's voice.

"I can get someone else to do it for you," Kíli offered quietly, refusing to look at Fíli. "It doesn't have to be me. Maybe Balin would—"

"No, Kíli," Fíli said gently, extending his good hand to his brother with a small smile, "it's not you I'm objecting to. I'm just done with braids. I don't want to wear them anymore. I would like it out of my face though. You can pin it back for me like yours if you'd like."

"I . . . I can?" Kíli asked brightly, a smile breaking out across his face that his brother would let him touch his hair. "You-you'd let me do that?" Hearing the very words that he had spoken to their uncle earlier broke Fíli's heart. Kíli should never have been led to doubt that Fíli would allow him the intimacies he was due as his brother. His own rejection of Kíli in the clearing the day before sprang sharply to his mind and his own words rang in his ears. _He _was the reason Kíli didn't think he was worthy to or allowed to do it. He was disgusted with himself for making another feel worthless.

"Of course I'd allow it," Fíli replied with a forced brightness as he trampled down his own guilt. "I . . . I'd even appreciate it. Please, Kíli, will you pin it back for me?" Kíli said nothing but his eager nod and bright smile were answer enough.

As he always was, Kíli was surprised at how much easier to tame Fíli's golden mane of hair was as opposed to his own unruly thatch.

"Ca-Can I ask, why the sudden change, Brother?" Kíli whispered hesitantly. "You've worn braids almost as long as I can remember. Why are you changing it now? I . . . I thought you liked your braids."

"Can I answer that later, Kíli?" Fíli muttered in reply. "I . . . not right now, alright?

"Alright," Kíli agreed, closing the large clasp around his brother's hair and moving to put a bit of space back between them so as not to suffocate Fíli. He wasn't sure how his brother would react to being smothered. Not anymore.

"You will tell me, won't you?" Kíli asked quietly. Once he would never have had to ask it. He would have _known _that Fíli would tell him anything. Now . . . he didn't' know.

"I will," Fíli promised, brushing back a loose strand of hair that Kíli had missed and putting it behind his ear. Kíli nodded and turned to go back to where Dwalin sat guarding his still steaming bowl but Fíli wasn't done with him just yet.

"Kíli?" he called and waited for his brother to turn around before he offered him a sad smile. "Thank you." Kíli nodded, returning the smile with a small one of his own before turning once more to go. As he walked away, Kíli's smile became a bit wider and more gentle. Perhaps Dwalin was right. Maybe Fíli didn't hate him after all.

If Dwalin noticed the smile on Kíli's face as the young heir lowered himself carefully to the ground once more, he didn't' say anything. Instead, he handed back Kíli's bowl and allowed him to eat in peace. He did notice that Fíli had no bowl in his hands and none nearby. He exchanged a glance with Balin who, when Dwalin nudged his head towards Fíli, nudged his own towards Thorin. He lifted his own bowl and quirked an eyebrow to ask if Fíli had eaten before he came over and Balin merely shrugged with a sad expression on his face.

With a sigh, the large dwarf got to his feet and walked towards the blonde heir, his own untouched bowl in his hands—he had been too intent on watching Fíli and Kíli, prepared to intervene if necessary, to eat. He didn't miss the way that Fíli relaxed when he glanced up and saw who was standing over him and he ardently wished that he was worthy of Fíli's trust.

"Here," Dwalin muttered handing his bowl to the younger dwarf. "I know you left yours elsewhere and haven't eaten. You said you were hungry so eat."

"I won't take your food," Fíli whispered. "I have my own. If I wasn't too much of a coward to go get it."

"Where is it then?" Dwalin asked. Fíli's eyes flicked towards his uncle and Dwalin sighed. "Did you eat any of it before Thorin upset you?" Fíli looked shocked that Dwalin knew what had happened. He hadn't even been in camp. But the older dwarf simply laughed.

"Fíli, I've known your uncle my entire life," Dwalin said. "I know how he gets when he's in pain. I don't know what he said to upset you but I can promise you he didn't mean it. When he's wounded, emotionally or physically, Thorin . . . he retreats within himself and then lashes out if you press him."

"Just like Kíli," Fíli muttered shaking his head sadly as he was reminded again just how similar his brother and uncle were. Was Kíli also capable of being as cold as his uncle for no reason at all?

"Just like Kíli," Dwalin agreed. "And that's not the only similarity they share, lad. I learned that today. And do you know what one of the things they share is?" Fíli shook his head. He knew many traits that Kíli and his uncle shared but he wondered which one Dwalin had learned.

"They both love you," the old warrior said with a smile. "Eat that. I'll go fetch yours and see if I can get Thorin out of whatever mood he's in." _What I wouldn't give to have Dís here_, Dwalin thought with a sigh. She was the best there was when it came to managing her brother's moods and he had a feeling that they desperately needed her now. He hated to think what condition he would find Thorin in and had no idea who could pull him back out if it was as bad as he feared it would be.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Dwalin was right to have feared for Thorin's state of mind. He hadn't moved since Fíli had left. Instead, he remained curled against the tree with Fíli's clasps in his hand, his eyes open but not seeing the forest before them. Instead, his mind was filled with images of a tiny, golden-haired dwarfling looking up at him with unmitigated trust in his blue eyes; eyes that only moments before had been filled with hatred and betrayal. He had done that. He had taken something _good_ and _pure_ and _innocent_ and morphed it into something more like himself: _scarred_, _damaged_, _worthless._ Not that he thought that Fíli was worthless. No. Fíli was damaged but he wasn't worthless. No. That was a label that Thorin reserved for himself.

Only someone who was worthless could take the unconditional love of a child and twist it in such a way as to cause that child pain. Only someone who was worthless could make a _child_—who they professed to love on more than one occasion—feel that they were a failure and unworthy of love. No, if anyone in the world was unworthy of love, Thorin knew that it was himself. Not Fíli. Never Fíli.

Time and again he had proven it. He was unworthy of his mother's love. Had he been worthy of it, he would have stayed in the mountain that day like she'd asked, he would have helped her to safety rather than stood by with Balin and watched his home and the town of Dale burn. He was unworthy of the love of his siblings. Frerin had died because of him and Dís . . . he had destroyed her _sons_—her world. Even if she forgave him, he didn't deserve it. He had never deserved her forgiveness, not for the death of their brother, or their father and he certainly did not deserve it for what he had done to Fíli and Kíli.

His precious boys. Oh! How he had proven himself unworthy of their love. Fíli . . . he had broken him long before the events of the Goblin Caves had shattered him. He may have appeared to be whole but his _spirit_ had been broken down by years of never feeling _good_ enough. Never succeeding in accomplishing enough, in his own eyes, to please Thorin who had never bothered to tell Fíli just how _proud_ he was of him. And Kíli . . . he had failed Kíli as well. Through sheltering his nephew he had done him no favors, just as he had accused Dís of doing to Fíli with her coddling. The events since Goblin Town had shown him that. Kíli was too immature. He was so focused on himself that he didnt' see the pain in others until it affected him or was pointed out to him. Thorin felt his heart constrict as he realized just how much of himself was in Kíli. All of his ability to cause pain, to break others, and his little Kíli had inherited it.

As Thorin thought about it he realized that even if they _did_ succeed in this quest, Erebor ruled by the line of Durin was doomed to fail. He was a fool. He had made so many mistakes in just the lives of his family, how could he ever expect to make the right decisions to rule a people. And it wasn't as if he could just step down. Fíli had the _knowledge_ and the _reason_ but he lacked the conviction and self-assuredness necessary to rule. With what Thorin had done to him . . . Fíli would not be able to rule in his current condition. And even _if_ Thorin could bring himself to wrong Fíli even further by robbing him of his birthright, Kíli was in no better condition to rule. He had the knowledge, he had been educated right beside his brother, but he lacked the emotional and self-disciplinary skills necessary to wield that knowledge. He had the confidence to rule but he was too impulsive, too rash, and made too many decisions based on emotional rather than logic. If Thorin could find a way to somehow crown _both_ of his nephews, it would be perfect. With Fíli's cool head and logical mind to make decisions and Kíli's willpower to enforce them . . . If they could be rolled into one person they would be legendary, the best king the line of Durin had ever produced.

But that was impossible. All they had when he was gone were two deeply flawed individuals that were in line to rule. Even so, they couldn't possibly do worse than he had when it came to personal decisions. No matter how he looked at it, it was his fault. The fall of the kingdom they had yet to claim, the scarring of his nephews. . . he was unworthy of life, let alone kingship and love. It was hopeless. He had nothing left to live for. No kingdom, no kin . . . nothing.

"Thorin, which of these is Fíli's?" he heard Dwalin ask. Thorin didn't answer. He couldn't summon up the energy to do it. It wasn't as if it mattered. Neither of them had been touched and even if Dwalin took them both it was fine. Thorin knew he didn't deserve food. He didn't want it either.

"Are you going to answer me?" Dwalin asked, sighing angrily when he realized that Thorin was not going to answer him any more than he was going to acknowledge his presence. This was worse than he'd feared. Taking one of the bowls for himself and leaving the other beside Thorin in case he changed his mind, he rose and went to search for Balin. There was only one thing left for them to do and he sincerely hoped that two things were true: the first was that he hoped that Dís had been right when she had told him how to fix Thorin if he fell into one of these slumps and the second was that he hoped Kíli was up to the task. He would never forgive himself is he sacrificed yet another child to keep Thorin sane.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter. I was asked on FF for a bit of a summary of what each of them are thinking about the other two and themselves so this chapter was born. Kíli kind of had his say in the last on so Thorin and Fíli needed theirs here. **

**As some of you may already know, there will most likely NOT be a new chapter out next week. I have finals and I don't think that I will have time to get one out BUT the good news is that after that I have nearly a month free to write as much as I would like :) **

**Guest:**** I know that you'll probably never see this as I'll bet you quit at chapter 17 but that's part of the point. These aren't sane males. They're deeply flawed individuals, though I will admit that it may have been a bit overkill. I am female after all but I have seen some emotional heart-to-heart moments from sane males in much less stressful situations that this. I'm sorry that you disliked it and do hope that your computer screen is still fine. If you did make it this far, I can tell you that things will get less touchy-feely from here on out as things equalize a bit and they get better at controlling themselves. At any rate, thank you for your review!**

**Anybody:**** Hello again :) And I do not mind analyses at all, feel free to analyze all you want. I'm glad that you are still loving it! And that is exactly why Fíli was angry. And no, no one told Thorin but really, no one should have had to. It only makes sense that your relationship issues will effect all future relationships, sad as it is. And I don't think Fíli is overreacting at the moment either. He has every right to be angry at the moment and he does get to chose now. Let's just hope he makes the right choice. And someone needs to do just that, the only problem is that there's not really anyone to do it. Dwalin could, but once his involvement comes out, that advice will get chucked aside. But Fíli does need to hear that. And I'm glad that you liked Dwalin stepping up to the plate with Kili. And nope, Kíli would make a horrible psychologist. He can't really help others because he doesn't quite understand himself yet, but he's getting there :) And thank you for your kind words :) I hope that you continue to enjoy it! (and we all have typos :) Don't worry too much.)**

**Jessica:**** Thank you so much for your review! I've been meaning to address this and you have provided me with the means to do it :) As to the Fíli/Kíli age debate, Tolkien himself created this problem. In the passage you mentioned in ****The Hobbit**** he stated that Fíli was the youngest but in the geneology at the end of ****Return of the King**** he gives their ages with Kíli being the youngest. Since that's where all of the information on Frerin and Thorin's past comes from, that is the age I went with. So it **_**was**_** a conscious decision but there was a base to it. And the argument can still be made that way, even though it can also be made that **_**neither**_** of the boys was well served by their upbringing. Kíli is Thorin's acknowledged favorite while Fíli is the one he pushed to better himself. More was expected of Fíli becuase he rose to ever challenge presented to him and Kíli was given more leeway because ... well, he was the favorite. And I hope that this chapter helped with some clarification. I was planning on doing something like this before you asked but decided that now was the time when I got your request. And I'm glad that you are glad that I slipped Frerin in :) I do like the background history that Tolkien gives us to work with and how it could factor into the present situations : And again, thank you! It drives me nuts when I see "escape from GT and into the trees." There is no way that the goblins could have organized quite so quickly after the death of the Great Goblin. And yep, orcs and wargs often seem to go hand in hand, don't they? And I do plan on keeping it (if I can ever figure out how to get Thorin into a tree :/ But the scene will be there all the same). And thank you for noticing! I do try to respect the cannon for the world I am working in even if I do take liberties. I hope that this has helped clarify my reasoning on a few things for you and that you continue to enjoy the story! **

**Guest:**** Gotta love universe discrepancies put there by the author, eh? It has become a bit repetitive, I agree. I may go back and do some major revisions (though the plot will remain constant) and things are about to change. Kíli is finally mostly fixed and nearly everything is finally out. Part of the reason that it kept going back to the problems is that everything was never brought out into the open. They would vent just enough to let off the pressure and then stop. And they are, Kíli especially so far, though both Fíli and Thorin have had their moments. And their behavior has not been becoming in the least (I wouldn't even venture to argue that it has) and now that they are starting to level out they are going to be beyond ashamed of themselves and start behaving more appropriately to both their race, gender and station. Thank you for your review! **


	27. Guilt, Tenderness and an Epiphany

As soon as Dwalin left Thorin's side, he went to Balin. He hated himself for what he was about to do. It was unfair to Kíli and he feared that they were about to make the same mistake with the youngest that they had made with the eldest all those years ago. Kíli didn't need to see Thorin as he was at the moment—no one did— and Dwalin feared that it would destroy Kíli to see his uncle in such a state but it had been what Dís had said to do when this happened, as she had been sure that it would.

**ooOO88OOoo**

_The night before they left Ered Luin, Dís had come to Balin and Dwalin where they sat plotting the trip from the Shire. They were surprised to see her standing there in the middle of the night without her boys but let her in all the same._

_"Dís," Balin said with a smile as he stepped aside to allow her into their home. "What brings you out so late at night?"_

_**"**__I have a request for you," Dís replied sadly as she sat at the table and took the mug of ale that Dwalin offered her. "I . . . I know that I can't come with you on this quest. Thorin would never allow it. Nor would the boys."_

_"You want us to watch out for your boys?" Dwalin asked offering his cousin an indulgent smile. He understood now why she had left the boys at home. Neither of them would appreciate their mother asking their cousins to look out for them._

_"Dís, you needn't ask. I'll protect them with my life," Dwalin promised, entirely serious._

_"I know," she replied a bitter smile on her face at the fact that she knew Dwalin's promise might be tested. "And they can take care of themselves besides. To kill either of them they would have to kill them both. That's not what I'm here about."_

_"Thorin," Balin said, seeing the pinched look on her face that she only got when she was thinking of her brother. He had seen it before but never to quite this extent. _

_"Thorin," she agreed, her voice choked. "He . . . he's not been away from me for so long since . . . since we lost Frerin. I . . . I fear . . . I fear for him. For his mind. I . . . I don't know how well he'll handle being alone, especially if anything goes wrong. __**When**__ Thorin breaks, Kíli will be your only hope of pulling him back out of it." They looked at her in shock. They knew that Thorin favored Kíli but . . . the lad was immature, impulsive. There was no way that he could do what only Dís was capable of and pull her brother back from the dark memories of his past._

_"Wouldn't Fíli be better?" Balin said seriously. "He . . . he's a bit more stable, calmer, more logical. With his own wild temperament, can Kíli handle Thorin when he's at his worst?"_

_"I don't know," Dís replied simply. "Neither of the boys has ever seen him like that. I've seen to it. . . but . . . even if I don't know if Kíli can do it, I know Fíli can't. Thorin won't let him in. Kíli will have to be up to it. It will __**have**__ to be Kíli."_

_"Dís," Dwalin sighed. "Kíli can't do what you're asking of him. He doesn't have it __**in**__ him to bully Thorin back to himself. It will destroy him. He can't fix Thorin the way you always have."_

_"He'll have to be up to it," Dís repeated, tears in her voice as she thought of the unfairness of the task she was setting her youngest to. "He may not do it the way I always have but he __**has**__ to do it. Fíli cannot do this. I promise you that. He will __**try**__ if you ask it of him," she paused taking a deep breath as she composed herself. "He will try and he will fail and then he will blame himself for Thorin's weaknesses. You know I'm right. __**Do not**__ ask this of Fíli. Don't set him up for failure. Kíli can do this. When it needs to be done, use Kíli to reach Thorin. That's partially why I insisted he go. While it's true that he deserves the same chances in life as Fíli, it's not really his archery you need. It's his ability to reach my brother. Kíli's stronger than you give him credit for. He can do this. Trust me."_

**ooOO88OOoo**

They had taken Dís at her word but it had never needed testing until now. Thorin had had a few slips along the way—notably when Fíli and Kíli were nearly drowned in the stream—but he'd never gone quite his far. He'd never gone far enough that Dwalin couldn't reach him to at least get him to talk. He'd almost slipped into the darkness this morning but Fíli had done what Dís said he couldn't and had stopped him.

Actually, as Dwalin thought more about it, Thorin hadn't been gone that morning. He'd been going, but he wasn't gone yet. He had still been talking that morning . . . he was still within reach. Fíli had kept him in reach and stayed there as an anchor. Thorin had only lost himself _after_ Fíli had left. Dwalin thought about the angry version of Fíli that had been unleashed since Goblin Town and wondered if Thorin had been the only one saying hurtful things that afternoon. With a sigh he realized that he might need to have a chat with Fíli like the one he had had with Kíli. Shaking his head and deciding to tackle one problem at a time, he spoke.

"Balin," Dwalin said sadly. The white-haired dwarf looked up at his brother's words, the tone telling him everything that he needed to know.

"That bad?" Balin asked with a sigh. Dwalin merely nodded, unable to put into words just how dark a place Thorin was in at the moment. "I know Dís said he can, but that was before all of this happened. Tell me, can Kíli handle this? Is he stable enough?"

"He'll have to be," Dwalin replied with a shrug as though he didn't care, but Balin could see the concern in his brother's dark eyes. "We don't have a choice really, but . . . " Dwalin trailed off looking at Fíli who was staring at nothing with a blank expression on his face that caused the older warrior's heart to constrict painfully as he recognized the same non-expression that he had seen on Thorin's face countless times.

"I . . . someone needs to . . . " Dwalin began unsure how to phrase it. He stopped trying as he felt Balin's hand on his knee.

"I'll take care of Thorin," Balin replied. "Dís said that Kíli probably wouldn't need to bully him. We don't need you for this. Go see to Fíli. If he won't talk to you, send in Bofur and Master Baggins. Fíli might be more willing to talk to a friend than a teacher at the moment."

"Thorin never talked to us," Dwalin argued, "Not when he was truly bothered. He talked to Dís. Do you think that he might—" Dwalin was cut off by Balin's snort.

"You think he'll talk to Kíli after what the lad did to him yesterday?" Balin scoffed. "And here I've always held that you aren't as stupid as you look, Brother. No, Kíli won't help Fíli at the moment. Lad'll be more likely to say something rash and enrage Fíli again. That's the _last _thing we need at the moment with Thorin already broken and orcs on our tail. No, we can't force them together, Brother. Leave them be."

"I think you are underestimating just how all of this has effected Kíli, Balin," Dwalin said. "He . . . he's matured just overnight. I think that a bit of . . . well, the consequences of his behavior . . . I don't know how to explain it. I spoke with him today and . . . Kíli is smarter than we ever gave him credit for. He _knows_, Balin. He knows everything. Figured it out on his own and I couldn't lie to him. He knows."

"And Fíli?" Balin breathed hoping that he was still in the dark about just who all had stood by and allowed Thorin's behavior over the years. He knew that the knowledge would do nothing to help the blonde heir in the face of his own brother's betrayal.

Dwalin shook his head, "Kíli doesn't want him to know. Asked me to keep it a secret a while longer." Balin nodded feeling guilty for feeling relieved that Fíli was still in the dark about their betrayal of him. Like his brother, he hoped that they were not sacrificing Kíli just as they had his brother. He wasn't sure that he could bring himself to do it again now that he saw the consequences of such a choice. He truly hoped that Kíli was up to this, and that Dís had been right about her son's ability to reach her brother.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Eventually, Kíli finished picking at his food and set the bowl aside. He hadn't been particularly hungry, the secret he was keeping from his brother twisting within in and begging to be released but he held it in. He knew that Fíli needed to know but he also knew that Fíli didn't need to know _now. _All the same, he had never kept a secret from his brother before, just as Fíli had never kept one from him until that day. The change in their relationship because of what he had done made his insides ache. Part of him wanted to blame anyone else for his mistakes, maybe Thorin for allowing him to be sheltered, but the majority of him knew that it was his own fault. They may have set the bar low for him but he could have strove to be more like his brother. Rather than just aim for the goals they had set for him he could have tried to compete with Fíli as he reached for higher goals. Maybe if he had—

"Kíli," Kíli was pulled out his thoughts by Balin's voice. Balin had to smile at the way Kíli had jumped when he was startled before looking up sheepishly just as he always had when he had been caught daydreaming in lessons. Some things never changed. Then his eyes were drawn to the stitched-red line on the boy's face and he was reminded that nothing was the same anymore.

"Come with me, lad," Balin said extending his hand to the young heir.

"Where are we going?" Kíli asked warily. He didn't want to go talk to Balin as he had Dwalin. He didn't want to rage at Balin and knew that would be the reaction that such a conversation would cause. He wasn't calm enough to discuss this rationally.

"To take care of Thorin," Balin said honestly before he fell into the lie he had come up with to convince the lad. He was pleased when his lie sounded like truth in his own ears. "While you and Dwalin were gone we drew lots and, well, I lost. The second short straw never got drawn so I'm gifting it to you since you didn't get to draw."

"Dwalin didn't draw either," Kíli countered not wanting to go near his uncle until he had a chance to calm down a bit and knew that he wouldn't simply start yelling again and reveal everything. He also wanted to keep his promise to Fíli and knew that if he went near Thorin he wouldn't be able to.

"He helped yesterday," Balin replied moving his extended hand to encourage Kíli to grab it. "It's your turn. Besides, Thorin already refused this once and you're our best hope. He's _never_ been able to deny _you_ anything." Kíli felt anger and nausea twist within him as he realized what Balin was alluding to. He couldn't believe that Balin would invoke their own failings as a means of manipulating him. He shot a quick glance at Fíli, but his brother showed no signs that he had heard or understood what had been said and he breathed a sigh of relief. He would never forgive them if they told Fíli before his brother was ready to know.

"What about Fíli?" Kíli tried desperately, knowing that it was wrong but unable to still the reaction. "Uncle won't deny him anything at the moment either."

"Fíli's hand's broken," Balin said with another small smile. He had anticipated that question. "We'll need both of yours for what we're doing. Now, get up." Kíli mentally scrambled for a moment to find a way out of this but came up with nothing. He would have to go. And what's more, he would have to see the wounds that had been inflicted on Thorin for his sake. Maybe Balin had more of a motive than just tending to his uncle.

Balin knew the moment that Kíli realized just what this truly meant for him and flinched at the anger in his eyes. He had counted on Kíli not figuring out his second motivation for forcing the young heir to see just how much Thorin had been willing to endure for him and perhaps tricking him back into loving his uncle. He knew that Kíli had a soft heart under all the rashness and that if he saw what Thorin had done for him for love that he would think twice about rejecting his uncle's love over a slight to his brother and he _needed_ Kíli to love Thorin if they had any chance of keeping the king sane. He wasn't sure how well his plan would work with Kíli _knowing_ that was what was going to happen.

_Maybe Dwalin was right about Kíli's intelligence,_ Balin thought perplexed at the revelation that the dense little dwarfling he had taught was not nearly as dense as he had led them to believe. As Kíli got to his feet wearily, ignoring the hand that Balin had offered him, Balin wondered if he was only seeing Kíli's understanding because he had been looking for it. Kíli cleared that up for him in short order.

"Uncle being more willing to let me do this than anyone else and Fíli's hand being broken aren't the only reasons you want me to come, are they?" Kíli demanded. "I'll still do it, but I think that I deserve the truth. You've _lied_ to me long enough, after all."

"No, lad, they're not," Balin said, shocked at just how forward Kíli was being at the moment and how calm he seemed as he did it, though it was clear that there was fury just below the surface. When had Kíli learned control?

"I thought so," Kíli said with a small bitter laugh. "What do you want me to do?" Balin was more shocked to realize that Kíli meant physically, he wasn't asking about Balin's motivations towards having him go. He already knew that answer.

"Grab that pot of water on the fire and come with me," Balin said simply. Kíli nodded and did as he was told, schooling his features into a mask of polite indifference that still left the older dwarf floored at the change in the young heir. With a shake of his head, Balin led the way to Thorin's side, knowing that Kíli would follow.

And follow he did. Thought at his first sight of his uncle he wished that he had refused. Thorin was seated on the ground, facing away from camp, leaning against the tree and curled in on himself as if seeking warmth or protection. He had never seen his uncle like this before—so defeated and so clearly weak—and it caused him nearly physical pain to see him in such a state now. _This is our fault,_ Kíli thought as he watched his uncle. _My fault_.

Balin was clearly disturbed by the sight before him as well, if the tense, clipped quality to his voice was anything to go by.

"Thorin," Balin snapped. "We're here to tend your wounds and we're not leaving 'til we've done it. Don't try to argue that treating you will only slow us down. We took a vote and we won't move again until you've been treated."

"What's the point?" Thorin asked in a weak passionless voice. "I have nothing to live for. Fíli and Kíli hate me. Dís will side with her sons. Even if we succeed in this suicide mission Erebor will not persevere. There's no point to any of it."

"I don't know if that's true or not," Balin said honestly. "I don't know the minds of those lads or of Dís and I make no claim to be a seer. But either way, I don't intend to be the one to explain to your sister that I allowed you to die when it was preventable. Since it doesn't matter to you either way, let me keep you alive to save my own skin."

"She won't kill you," Thorin whispered. "And if she does it will only be because you allowed me to die before she could kill me herself."

"All the same, I intend to keep you alive until such a time as Dís does decide to kill you, _if_ she does," Balin replied. "Even if I have to do it by force. Thorin, you can't fight us. Not in your present condition. You may as well allow us to treat you and keep your dignity intact rather than resist and be subdued before you are treated."

"I _will not_ be forced into this by you and Dwalin," Thorin snarled, enraged that they would throw his weakened state back in his face. "So you can both just go—"

"I don't have Dwalin with me, Thorin," Balin cut him off before Thorin could launch into what was sure to be a creative location for him and his brother to go. "I have Kíli." The words had the effect that he had known they would and he watched as the angry tension left Thorin's shoulders and he raised his head.

"Kíli?" Thorin breathed, turning his head to look at them as if he would only believe what Balin said if he saw it with his own eyes. The hope in his uncle's blue eyes hit Kíli like a fist to the gut. He had _never_ seen Thorin this open and he felt acutely embarrassed, almost as if he was seeing something he wasn't meant to. He could think of nothing to say so instead he offered his uncle a sad, weak smile.

Thorin felt the first stirrings of hope in his gut as the shattered pieces of his heart began trying to mend again. He knew that he wasn't forgiven. Kíli was still angry with him; he could see it in the set of his jaw and the tension around his eyes and his paltry excuse for a smile but Kíli had at least cared enough to come with Balin. He might not love him as he once had but he didn't wish him dead. With a defeated sigh, Thorin nodded.

"Make it quick," he said looking away from his angry nephew. "We need to keep moving. I still say this delay is unnecessary."

"We'll be as quick as we can," Balin promised. "Kíli, set that pot there where we can both reach it but he won't kick it over if he twitches." Kíli did as he was told and knelt on the other side of Balin awaiting further instructions.

"We're going to remove his shirt," Balin said. "On my signal, pull it off. Don't stop once you get started. It may have stuck to the bandages but it won't pull them up. Just keep going. Understand?" Kíli nodded and gripped the hem of his uncle's shirt. Locking eyes with the younger dwarf, Balin nodded and the two of them pulled the back of the shirt rapidly over Thorin's head before working it more gently over his arms. Even so, the motion left Thorin panting and it nearly brought tears to Kíli's eyes to see Thorin in such pain over so little a thing.

"Don't just sit there looking at him, lad," Balin barked, shocking Kíli and stilling his tears. "Start on the bandages. Remove them and set them aside. Glóin is going to come and fetch them and bring fresh. Be gentle here, lad. If they're stuck, don't just rip them up. You'll damage the healing below. Soak them if you have to. There's a stream nearby and Óin's heating more water for when this is too soiled to continue."

Kíli nodded and began working on the bandage closest to him, trying not to think about what would be soiling the water so that they needed fresh. This bandage had bled through and needed to be soaked before it would come free. When it did, he wished that it hadn't. As the cloth pulled free, Kíli's eyes were assaulted with the sight of angry burned flesh. And not a small burn either. It was a long patch of livid red running the length of his uncle's ribcage. Without thinking about it, he reached out and gently touched the red skin before leaning his head against his Uncle's purple shoulder.

He remembered this one. He had been the one to cause it. He breathed heavily for a moment trying to press back the memories of his uncle's cries of pain as he had pressed the knife against his flesh again and again. This had been the one that the Goblin had insisted on seeing bone on. And he had. Kíli could remember the feeling of the knife bouncing against the bones as it crossed his uncle's ribs. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat at the memory and opened his eyes, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than relive what he had done. As he looked again, he realized that even though he remembered this one it hadn't looked like this. It hadn't been a burn. There had only been one burn in Goblin Town.

"Wh-what happened here?" Kíli asked his voice sounding impossibly young even to his own ears. Even as he asked it, he remembered his uncle's cries of pain as they had been 'hunting.'

"They had to sear it closed," Thorin panted out, stopping with a hiss as Balin wiped at a wound on his other side. "I could-couldn't continue losing so m-much blood."

"Bu . . . but they _burned_ you!" Kíli exclaimed glaring at Balin. "That . . . that's not healing! It's torture!"

"It . . . it is," Thorin disagreed. "It's not a pre-preferred method but—Mahal! Balin at least _try_ to be gentle!—when there's no other choice it works."

"But—"

"They couldn't have sewn them all, little one," Throin panted. "We . . . we didn't have time. And it wouldn't have stopped . . . stopped the blood. It's torture but it's . . . it's better than the alternative." There was silence for a moment save for Thorin's labored breathing as Balin and Kíli worked to clean the wounds. They hadn't even finished half of them when Thorin stopped them.

"Please," he panted, "Need . . . a minute. . . can . . . can't breathe."

"Alright, Thorin," Balin said. "Just lean back and try to relax. I'll go change out the water and take these bandages to Glóin. Stay with him," he ordered Kíli. Kíli nodded and helped Thorin to lean back against the tree as Balin took the water and walked away.

As Kíli watched his uncle struggling to catch his breath he tried to sort through his feelings towards Thorin. With ever wound that had been revealed, Kíli had felt sicker and more conflicted. He hadn't actually seen just how many wounds Thorin had endured. He had known that they had been numerous, but with all the blood covering him he hadn't realized just how numerous. With his skin clean . . . it was clear just how many there were. And they had all been for his sake.

As he was confronted with the full extent of his uncle's love for him, Kíli felt guilty for how he had behaved toward his uncle that morning. And he hated Balin for it. He knew that this had been what the older dwarf had been trying to do but it didn't change the fact that it had worked. The pity and gratitude that he felt towards his uncle for being willing to endure pain so he didn't have to warred with the resentment he felt for Thorin's treatment of his brother and left him feeling nauseous.

With every new burn, or cut that was revealed to him, Kíli felt his resentment for Thorin begin to fade. How could he hate someone who had been willing to sacrifice so much for his sake. Had his uncle have wanted to, he could have stood aside and allowed Kíli to be tortured. But instead he had offered himself in Kíli place. If it weren't for his uncle, it would be Kíli that had been repeatedly cut and stabbed and burned. He would be the one leaning against a tree struggling for air. If what Thorin had done wasn't a sign of love Kíli didn't know what was and he was having difficulties remaining angry with his uncle in the face of it. But at the same time: Fíli.

He loved his brother and he had already betrayed him once. His uncle had hurt Fíli. He had made him feel unloved, unworthy and had sacrificed Fíli for Kíli in the caves but Fíli himself had admitted that he would have done what he did without Thorin's prompting. He'd even said that _he_ had been the one to tell the Uncle that he would do whatever it took to keep Kíli safe. But Fíli was angry with their uncle and Kíli loved his brother so . . . didn't he have to be angry with their uncle for Fíli's sake? He was torn, the compassion and love and gratitude he was feeling for Thorin feeling like a betrayal of Fíli's trust.

"Where . . . where did you and . . . Dwalin get off to . . . earlier?" Thorin asked, cracking a blue eye open to look at Kíli and distract himself from the pain in Kíli's chatter. He didn't take into account the fact that Kíli didn't feel up to chatter at the moment.

"Nowhere really," Kíli replied quietly, his tone tense and distracted as his mind was focused on his own inner turmoil rather than his conversation with his uncle. "We just went into the forest."

"Wanted a . . . closer look at nature?" Thorin asked with a single painful laugh that led to a weak coughing fit. As his eyes drifted closed once more, he saw instead a tiny dwarfling looking up at him with apologetic brown eyes as he offered the same excuse for disappearing on an outing.

Kíli, too, smiled at the memory. He remember how his uncle's eyes had gone wide with shock at his explanation before they had narrowed and he had shook his head snarling not to disappear again and stalking away only to come in later that night when he thought that Kíli was asleep and apologizing for yelling and saying that he had only done it because he was so scared to lose him. His smile faded as the thought crossed his mind that he wished things were still so simple.

"No," Kíli replied, his sorrow for the loss of simplicity present in his tone. "I wasn't looking for nature this time. I've seen more than enough of it now. He . . . he wanted to _talk_ to me about how I've been treating you and Fíli." At that explanation Thorin's eyes shot open and he looked more closely at Kíli for any sign of injury. He and Dwalin had had many 'talks' over the years and he knew Dwalin's preferred method of driving a point home but Kíli seemed unharmed and a good deal calmer that he had before. That was a good thing but the sadness Thorin could see in him now . . . it hurt him to see his wild little Kíli so still and sad.

"He shouldn't've done that," Thorin whispered. "As my heir it's _my_ responsibility to . . . to take you to task . . . over wrongdoings . . . not his." Thorin fully intended to have words with Dwalin about having done it as soon as he felt he could do it without taking all day about it.

"Would you have?" Kíli asked in a small voice, looking up at Thorin through the fringe of his hair. Thorin was shocked at the question. Had it been Fíli, he could have seen it. Fíli always asked questions constantly but Kíli . . . questions from him were rare. The more the king thought about it, the more he saw that it was a legitimate question.

"Most likely not," Thorin said honestly. As he thought back he realized that he could only really remember lecturing Kíli and that only a handful of times. If he had ever needed _punishing_ Dís had always been the one to do it.

Kíli nodded with a small smile on his face. Thorin was spared having to come up with a new topic for them to discuss by Balin's return. Thorin moved to try to sit up again only to be stopped by Balin's hand on his shoulder.

"Just stay there," Balin said kneeling beside his wounded king once more. "We can do this without you moving for a bit." Thorin nodded and leaned back against the tree as Kíli and Balin began cleaning once more. The way that Thorin's breath hitched as the cloth in Kíli's hand grated over his wounds broke Kíli's heart. Every time he had to pause to wash his uncle's blood from the cloth, a bit of his confusion abated, washed away with the blood. And eventually he came to a realization: there was no reason he couldn't love them both.

Why shouldn't he be able to? They both loved him. They had both proved it. Why did he have to choose? Was he really required to hate Thorin _for_ Fíli? Suddenly the answer came to him. He had said it to Dwalin just a bit earlier. This situation was truly no different. He had told Dwalin that he could neither offer forgiveness or take vengeance in Fíli's name . . . this was the same. He could love both Fíli and Thorin without betraying either of them. On the tale of that realization came regret at his earlier actions towards Thorin.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," Kíli said suddenly, just as he cleaned a particularly tender burn and a choked sob broke free from Thorin's throat.

"There's nothing to . . . apologize for, Kíli," Thorin gasped. "You . . . you're only trying . . . to help."

"For my behavior this morning," Kíli clarified. "I shouldn't have . . . I'm sorry." To say that Thorin was shocked would have been an understatement. Kíli _never_ apologized unless it was in an attempt to avoid a punishment, but none had been threatened here. This was an unsolicited apology.

"Would this . . . have anything to do . . . with your . . . conversation . . . with Dwalin?" Thorin asked pausing between statements to try to catch his breath. Kíli gave a small laugh as he and Balin set down their cloths to give Thorin a chance to recover once more.

"Does it matter?" Kíli asked, a warm smile on his face. Thorin smiled in reply and made to raise his hand to place it on Kíli's cheek only to stop with a wince as his injured shoulder refused to move. Kíli smile fell as he gently took his uncle's hand in his own and slowly raised it to his own cheek offering his uncle a shaky smile.

"Thank you, Kíli," Thorin whispered stroking his nephew's cheek with his thumb. He felt more than saw Kíli smile and felt as he pressed into the caress. Thorin knew that he didn't deserve what Kíli was offering him but he was more than willing to take the forgiveness that was being offered. Even if Fíli and Dís never spoke to him again, at least Kíli was still there. Even _if_ Erebor was a fool's dream, Kíli believed in him and loved him. Even if no one else did, this was enough. It was more than he deserved for what he had done and he would take what he could get.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Thank you all for being so patient with me while I got that last week of school out of the way. I hope that this chapter was worth the wait.**

**Allister:**** I am very sorry about beating your feelings :( And I take that as the highest of compliments that it feels real enough to drive you to tears! Thank you so much! And they will start looking up for the boys. Fili still has some big issues to work through but things are going to start looking up from here :) I hope that this was worth the wait!**

**Anybody:**** I am fine, thank you! And am glad to hear that you are as well :)And they are. Finals are vile things :/ Good thing they only come around once a semester :) And I am glad that you are still loving this story! And I'm glad that you can see that! Most people don't get that :) And that was a very real fear. Thorin . . . he doesn't cope well and suicide was a very real possibility for him. And he does, the only question is if Fili will accept his apology when it comes. And Kili does deserve an apology as well, we'll just have to see if he gets one too. And his is very unlike Kili. Fili does push down what he feels and wants for the good of others (more like Thorin, though I don't know that THAT knowledge will make Fili feel better) And I didn't see it that way, but I do like that take on it! I love that take on him taking out the braids! And they're working on getting back to normal and (sadly) it's all going to hinge on Kili. I hope that the new chapter was worth the wait!**

**That's all for now folks, but good news is I have three weeks where I don't really have anything to do except for write so things should pick back up here for a bit. I hope you are still enjoying this tale!**

**Stickdonkeys**


	28. Misunderstanding, Epiphany & an Offer

Fíli was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't react even when Dwalin stood directly above him. Had Dwalin not already suspected that something was wrong, this would have solidified it. Fíli had always been difficult to sneak up on, years of living with the terror that was Kíli making his senses sharper than normal. That had been one combat skill that Fíli had never needed taught and for him to be so out of it now . . . it didn't bode well for his state of mind.

"Fíli?" Dwalin said when he was still out of range of a sword in case he startled the lad, praying to anyone that would listen that Fíli would respond. He did. His head shot up, a questioning noise in his throat before his blue eyes focused on Dwalin and a smile forced its way onto his face.

"Dwalin," Fíli said by way of greeting. If Dwalin hadn't known the lad better he would have thought that his smile was genuine. "Do you need something?"

"I actually thought that you might, lad," the older warrior replied. "Can I sit or would you prefer to go somewhere more private?"

"I don't know what you mean," Fíli said, confusion clear on his face. "What do you think I need and why would we need to go somewhere private?" Dwalin looked at him a moment more. The boy sounded normal and seemed calm but underneath that the older dwarf could see the same turmoil that he so frequently saw in Thorin and it nearly broke his heart to realize just how destroyed Fíli had become.

"I think you know exactly what I mean, Fíli," Dwalin said sitting beside him and opting for the direct approach that had always worked so well on both Kíli and Thorin. He hoped it would work on Fíli, but he wasn't sure as he had never really needed _talking to_. "I think you and I need to talk about whatever happened between you and Thorin earlier." Whatever reaction Dwalin had been expecting, much like with Kíli earlier, it wasn't what he received.

"I _don't_ want to talk about that!" Fíli snapped, his tone filled with more venom than Dwalin knew that sweet, docile Fíli was capable of. "I don't want to talk about _him_. I don't want to talk about _any_ of it."

"I think you need to, lad," Dwalin said bit nervously as he realized that he had made a mistake with using this approach on Fíli and had only succeeded in making him feel trapped and angry but unable to back down now. "You can't let these things simmer. I know the two of you exchanged hurtful words and—"

"He said that, did he?" Fíli demanded, his voice harsh with emotion. "Said _I_ was hurtful?" He barked out a bitter breathy laugh. "That _I_ hurt him?! Did he tell you what he told me?" Fíli's tone faded at the end and suddenly it was a vulnerable dwarfling rather than an enraged young dwarf that sat beside Dwalin.

"Did . . . did he tell you that . . . " Fíli trailed off, unable to continue without breaking into tears at his own failures and his uncle's revelation. He didn't want to cry. Not anymore. Instead he allowed anger to once more fill him so that he didn't have to feel the pain of his uncle having never really seen him.

"What did Thorin do, lad?" Dwalin prompted, placing a hand on Fíli's shoulder. "What cruel thing did he say?"

"Nothing," Fíli snapped pushing Dwalin's hand away and standing to move away from the larger dwarf, unable to stand being comforted. Not by someone who could _never_ understand what he was feeling. Dwalin hadn't been regulated to nothing more than his lineage by someone he counted as a parent. Dwalin hadn't been led to believe that he was a disappointment by someone who's approval he had _craved_. He hadn't been led to believe that _nothing_ he could do was good enough while Balin could do nothing wrong as Fíli had with Kíli. Dwalin could _never _understand. No one could. Not even Kíli. Especially not Kíli. That knowledge angered Fíli. Never before would he have said that Kíli could not understand something that effected him so deeply.

"He did nothing!" Fíli yelled storming away from Dwalin and the things that he made Fíli confront while thinking of all the things that Thorin had never done for him or allowed him to do growing up that Kíli had been allowed to do. It was with a sudden cold comprehension that Fíli realized that while he had a brother and a mother, he, _Fíli_ had no uncle. He never had. Thorin had never been an uncle to him. Not like he had for Kíli. For him, Thorin had been a King grooming his heir, not an uncle raising his nephew. It wasn't a happy realization and it left him feeling dead inside.

"Lad!" Dwalin called climbing to his feet and grabbing Fíli's arm to stop him even though Fíli had already stopped under the weight of his epiphany. "You _need_ to talk about this. Don't let it fester. That won't do _anyone_ any good, Fíli. What did your uncle _say_?"

"Nothing," Fíli replied again pulling free with a look of disdain on his face. "My _uncle_ said nothing. I don't _have_ an uncle. I have a king. Just as he has one nephew and one heir. Thorin is my king. Nothing more." With another glare Fíli moved to walk off once more and this time Dwalin didn't stop him. He was too shocked by what had just been said. Had _Thorin_ said that to Fíli!? Where else would the boy have come up with it? He felt rage boil within him that Thorin would _dare_ to say something like that to his nephew.

He turned towards Thorin, intending to ask just what had gotten into his head to make him think that it was acceptable to say things like that to someone who loved him as much as Fíli did. His king or no, Dwalin did not intend to silence his displeasure on this matter. As he had told Kíli, Fíli and Thorin were his cousins. It wasn't a relationship he evoked often but he fully intended to at the moment.

As he neared them, Thorin's voice, weak, thready and pleading, hit his ears.

"Please," he panted, "Need . . . a minute. . . can . . . can't breathe."

At that quiet plea, the fight went out of Dwalin. He couldn't confront Thorin on this. Not now. Not when he was barely hanging onto life let alone sanity. It wasn't as if yelling at him would erase what he had said at any rate. The damage had been done. None of them could erase the past. Though if Dwalin could . . . he would do it in a heartbeat. He didn't know what it was but there _had _ to have been a different way they could have handled this. Surely Fíli hadn't _had_ to be broken for a few more years of Thorin remaining sane.

"Alright, Thorin," he heard Balin. "Just lean back and try to relax. I'll go change out the water and take these bandages to Glóin. Stay with him," Before Dwalin could move, Balin had come around the tree with a pot of bloody water and an armful of bloody bandages. Where before, they had made Dwalin pity Thorin for what had happened, now they made him questions what would have happened had Fíli been the one threatened; would Thorin have been so willing to sacrifice himself for his _heir_ as he had been for his _nephew_?

His brother's eyes widened at the sight of him and he mouthed, 'Fíli?' to which Dwalin shook his head and gestured back towards camp. Once they were far enough away that a quite conversation would not carry, Balin spoke.

"What happened?" he asked, taking in Dwalin's furious expression and wondering what had upset his brother so. Surely Fíli hadn't managed to enrage him; Kíli hadn't even managed that and Dwalin had always had more patience for Fíli. They all had.

"I found out what Thorin said to upset Fíli," Dwalin bit out. "_Apparently_, Thorin only thinks he has one nephew."

"Then what does he think Fíli is?" Balin asked needing no clarification as to which of the boys was the one Thorin claimed as a nephew.

"An _heir_," Dwalin snarled, the words burning his throat as they came up.

"Durin's beard," Balin breathed. "And he _said_ that?! _To_ Fíli?!" Dwalin said nothing but his silence was damning. This was more than even Balin's even temper could take. It was bad enough that Thorin had pushed Fíli too hard from too young an age but _this!_ This was beyond unacceptable. For the first time, Balin had no pity whatsoever for Thorin. Yes, his life had been a difficult one. It had been cruel. It had been full of loss, but _this_. And then he had the _audacity_ to cite the boys hating him as a reason to let him die? Was he surprised? Of _course_ Fíli hated him after hearing something like that.

_Maybe Thorin __**is**__ right about what Dís is going to do to him,___Balin thought with a disappointed shake of his head. _She will take an axe to him for this. And this time, I won't stop her. Might even hand her the axe myself._

**ooOO88OOoo**

After Fíli stormed away from Dwalin, he walked a little way into the woods to be alone. He didn't go far, still within shouting distance if something came up either at camp or there, but out of sight of the others. He sank to the ground, not even bothering to try to find something to sit on and put his head in his hands. How had it come to this? Just two days ago, he had been happy. He had known who he was, who he could trust, and who loved him. Now? Now he had none of that.

Who was he? Was he Fíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thráin, sister-son of Thorin Oakenshield or was he simply Fíli, son of Dís and heir of King Thorin II Oakenshield. Was what he had said to Dwalin the truth? Did Thorin only view him as an heir to be molded and not a nephew to be loved? In the past two days he had said things that made Fíli believe that he loved him. In fact, he'd said everything that Fíli had ever wanted to hear and more. He was struck once again but the fear and pain in Thorin's eyes as he had spoken that day.

Suddenly Dwalin's words from just a bit earlier rang in his head: _"Just like Kíli," Dwalin had agreed. "And that's not the only similarity they share, lad."_ Not the only similarity they shared. Fíli found himself wondering if his uncle also shared Kíli's habit for attempting to get out of trouble. When Kíli was caught doing something he knew he wasn't supposed to be, his brother somehow always knew just what to say to get back out of. Was Thorin doing the same thing now? Had he just said what he knew that Fíli wanted to hear to keep Fíli loyal?

Fíli shook his head, not wanting to believe that the dwarf that he had known his entire life was capable of such a thing but then he remember Thorin claiming not to have known he had done it and felt rage and doubt boil within him. How did Thorin expect him to believe that he hadn't known what he was doing? It had been clearly obvious to both Fíli and his mother and she had said more than once that she would talk to him about it. He _had _to have known. Even Balin . . .

Fíli's thoughts stopped there, as suddenly as if he had been struck. _Balin _had known. He had confronted Thorin about it. Thorin himself had said so. Balin had known. Fíli wondered just how long he had known. And if Balin had known . . .that meant . . . did Dwalin know too? Fíli suddenly felt as betrayed as he had when Kíli had turned on him in the caves. Betrayed and . . . vaguely nauseous. He crept toward camp, near enough that he could see but not be seen and watched them interact for a moment.

They all seemed quiet, subdued almost. Dwalin and Balin had their heads together and seemed to be having a rather animated private discussion. Fíli was certain that they both knew. He doubted they had secrets between them. But who else knew. He glanced at his cousins and saw the worried look that Óin and Glóin were shooting Balin and Dwalin as they sat near the fire. He knew that it was possible that they were just worried about the bloody bandages that Balin was carrying but to Fíli's suspicious mind, they were worried because they had known as well. That still didn't tell him much. Of course his cousins would know but did any of the others? And how long had those that knew known? Surely not long. Surely they cared enough for him that had they known they would have stopped it; didn't they?

Fíli wasn't sure. He curled in on himself as the horrible question came to mind. What if they all knew? What if they'd _always_ known? What if they had stood by and let it happen because Fíli didn't matter to them? Could they have done that? Was he truly so worthless and unworthy that they could abandon him? Had they all lied to him his entire life? And then came the all important question: did his mother know about all of this? He knew that she knew about Thorin's coldness but _this_ . . . that everyone else knew, did she know that? He felt his very _soul_ scream at the idea that his mother could have betrayed him like that and he pushed it away. She wouldn't have. She _couldn't_ have. His mother loved him. That was the one thing that he was still sure of. She could never betray him. Not like Kíli, or Thorin or any of the others. His mother hadn't known about this. He couldn't believe it.

A sound behind him startled Fíli suddenly and he turned, dagger in hand and chest heaving to meet whatever was coming, only to meet Bilbo's frightened brown eyes: eyes a shade lighter than Kíli's but close enough to make Fíli feel more terrible for frightening him than he did already.

"I'm sorry, Bilbo," Fíli whispered sheathing the dagger once more. "You startled me."

"I called to you a couple of times," Bilbo said relaxing a bit at Fíli's calm tone, though he still looked skittish. "Didn't you hear me?" Fíli shook his head and Bilbo nodded, a small sad smile on his face.

"You were probably distracted," Bilbo offered, knowing how these dwarves prided themselves on their survival skills. Fíli hummed, unable to find words for it and looked away from Bilbo.

"Fíli . . . I-I don't pretend to understand what you're going through," the hobbit offered quietly. "You, or Kíli or Thorin. It's not something that I _can_ understand." Fíli looked at him sharply and Bilbo began fidgeting nervously with a loose thread on his coat sleeve.

"I-I mean . . . I don't have any siblings," Bilbo explained, though Fíli already knew this having extensively discussed families with the hobbit at the start of this ill-fated quest. "E-even if I did . . . nothing like-like _this_ ever would have happened in the Shire."

"Nothing like this happens in Ered Luin either," Fíli said sadly, the bit of lie tasting bitter on his tongue. Some of it had happened in Ered Luin after all. This wasn't a new problem, not really. Aspects of it, yes, but the problem itself . . . that was _decades_ in the making. Bilbo nodded, not seeing the lie for what it was as he didn't know that Fíli's accusations the day before had been true and still believing them to be the angry statements of a hurt young dwarf.

"Even so," Bilbo sighed moving forward cautiously, his stance making it clear that he was prepared to run at a moment's notice and Fíli felt his heart clinch that Bilbo would fear him like this. He knew that he would never hurt Bilbo. _Just as you'd never hurt Kíli? _ a vicious part of himself whispered but he shook it off. That thought, along with Bilbo's fear, was too painful for him to address at the moment. Though h did suppose that he understood Bilbo.

If he could lash out at Kíli, who was safe. Surely not a little hobbit with no skills with a blade. In a flash of memory, he remembered the fear in even _Dwalin's_ eyes just a bit ago. It seemed he'd made _everyone_ fear him. That was a very sobering though and it made him sad to think that people feared him. He didn't' want to be feared. But despite the clear fear there, Bilbo continued coming and even went as far as to reach out a quivering hand and lay it on his arm.

It wasn't until Bilbo was right at his elbow, with one hand on his forearm that the hobbit spoke again.

"I _do_ know, from what I've heard—not that I was eavesdropping, you know but—"

"I know everyone has heard more than enough of my family's fights," Fíli said gently, feeling shame flood him that they had fought so publicly over something that was so private a matter.

"And I'm not trying to replace your brother or your uncle," Bilbo continued nervously. "I know that I can't and I would never endeavor to try. But . . . well, I know that you're related to nearly half the company and have known the rest as well. If you need to talk to someone you're _not_ related to . . . I _will _listen. I can't promise that I'll understand it, even if you do stay in Westron, but . . . I'll listen all the same." Fíli smiled at the cautious offer and raised his left hand to grip Bilbo's right bicep, squeezing it gently.

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever need to talk," Fíli replied bowing his head at the kindness this hobbit, who had no real attachment or obligation to him was showing. It pained him even more in the face of the potential and actual betrayals of all those he called kin.

Bilbo hummed and bowed his head in response, thinking it the thing to do. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service," he said a small smile on his face as he remember the united front of Fíli and Kíli storming through his door like twin whirlwinds and wreaking nearly as much havoc on his orderly home. His smile turned sad as he realized they may never do anything like that again. Fíli smiled too, sharing the same memory before his mind went to the same place as Bilbo's.

"Fíli, son of Dís, at yours," Fíli replied with a sad laugh. "That is, _if_ you ever need me. I've offered you my service before and you've yet to need it. In fact, my brother and I have gotten you _into_ more trouble than we've gotten you out of. Some 'service' that is."

"I disagree," Bilbo said with a laugh. "You've been helpful. How else would I ever have gotten on a pony? I assure you I wouldn't have done it myself." Despite himself, Fíli laughed, his first real laugh since before the Goblin Caves.

"All the same, I hope to one day aid you in more than simply mounting a pony," Fíli said offering Bilbo yet another bow, with a melodramatic flair this time as his mood improved slightly. As he stood, his hand unconsciously moved to put his braids behind his ear once more only to touch nothing. He cautiously touched to the side of his head, a small frown on his face at the smooth hair he encountered there and the loss of something he had once considered a part of him.

"It looks good," Bilbo said quietly. "Different but good. I'm sure you had your reason for changing it at any rate, though I do have to say that you look more like Kíli than I realized without the braids. If he had a mustache and your hair was dark . . . I'm sorry . . . did I offend you?" Bilbo pulled back slightly. Fíli's expression had darkened frighteningly at the mention of dark hair and the hobbit found himself wondering if this was one of those dwarf things that he'd never understand. Was their identity tied to their hair color as it was their beards?

"No. You didn't offend me. You only surprised me. Not many can see any resemblance between my brother and me. The differences in coloration see to that. At any rate, thank you for the compliment. I will admit I'm a bit self-conscious about the change," Fíli said visibly recomposing himself and nudging towards camp with his head. "Come on, let's get back before they start to worry that I've harmed you."

"Oh, Fíli!" Bilbo snapped swatting the dwarf lightly. "They'd never think that!"

Fíli said nothing, but his quiet, bitter laugh and wry smirk said it for him. What Bilbo saw there was 'Think what you'd like but we both know they would."

Seeing that Fíli truly believed that the others would think him capable of harming one of the company upset Bilbo. Surely Fíli didn't' think that they thought so poorly of him. Did he? Even once they were back among the group, he sat in uncharacteristic silence as he wondered just what was actually going on in Fíli's head.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**And I'm back to spoiling y'all again :) What's it been, two, three days? Anyway . . . I couldn't' leave it where I did so, new chapter! I hope you enjoyed it!**

**And I know that some of you like knowing what I was listening to when I wrote things so here's what was in the background while this chapter was being written: w w w .youtube watch ?v=st1vVohrHRo**

**Not sure if FF let me keep the link but it's on this same story on AO3 if you're really curious.**

**Allister****: I'm just glad that you keep coming back :) And thank you so much, I do worry that you all will get sick of me taking forever and just give up :) And I'm glad that you're glad that they're progressing :) And poor Fíli... you and I both hope that he can overcome this. Poor dear :'( **

**Well, that's all for now, folks. I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Stickdonkeys**


	29. A Paltry Explanation & Kinship Revoked

As soon as the last bandage was back in place, Balin stood. He looked speculatively at Kíli and Thorin for a moment before picking up the pot and heading back to camp.

"Get him dressed and on his feet, Kíli," he called over his shoulder. "When you're done, you two start moving. I'll tell the rest to pack up and we'll catch up to you." Kíli blinked at the coolness of Balin's tone. As the older dwarf stalked off, he realized that after he came back with supplies he never said a single word to his uncle.

"Balin, I . . . I can't—" Kíli tried to protest his ability to get his uncle to his feet. Kíli could barely get _himself_ to his feet, let alone another person that couldn't do much on their own. But Balin paid him no mind and kept walking as though Kíli had said nothing. It seemed that he wanted nothing more than to put as much distance between himself and Thorin as he could.

"What was that about?" Kíli muttered.

"I have no idea," Thorin replied looking at his shirt with a grimace and wondering if it would truly be so dreadful for him to go without. It wasn't as if he wasn't mostly covered anyway. There were enough bandages there to nearly cover his entire torso and it wasn't as if the shirt would provide any kind of protection against injury. At that thought, all he could think was that he was thankful that all Fíli had removed before he walked away was the braids. He had still wore the mail the last time Thorin had seen him.

"If I have to wear clothing so do you, Uncle," Kíli said with a laugh seeing the dark glare that Thorin was leveling at the blue cloth. "I like this situation no more than you do."

"Your mother didn't have to sew your shirt to your pants this time, did she?" Thorin asked with a smile as he remember Kíli's 'clothing-is-bad' phase as a child and Dís' creative solution to her son stripping off clothing everywhere he went.

"No," Kíli said a bright smile on his face as he tried to shrug only to stop with a wince as it pulled his wounds. "She did threaten to though. Something about the embarrassment she would feel if I became a 'naked princling running wild through the woods without braids like an animal bringing shame to the line of Durin.' Her words, not mine. I see nothing wrong with a bit of nudity." Thorin snorted at Kíli's statement. He well knew that Kíli and modesty were not synonymous.

"Are there any societal mores you _do _approve of, little one?" Thorin asked with a laugh.

"Not really," Kíli replied. "You know I don't really like ceremony." Thorin nodded, saddened by the fact that Kíli really had no choice in the matter. Just as Fíli hadn't. They couldn't change the circumstances of their birth or their appearances. Sensing the change in his uncle's mood, Kíli changed the subject.

"So . . . let's get that shirt on you, shall we?" Kíli said, with a sigh. "I may as well have done one of the things Balin told me to. Don't want to be a complete failure after all."

"You're _not_ a failure," Thorin snapped, thinking of what Fíli had said a bit ago.

"I know," Kíli replied, his tone revealing his shock at his uncle's vehemence. "It was a joke, Uncle."

"It wasn't funny, Kíli!" Thorin snarled.

"I'm sorry," Kíli whispered looking at his uncle in confusion. He'd joked about being a failure before and his uncle had never gotten angry with him for it. Said he wasn't a failure, of course, but never gotten _angry_ about it. Even his reaction to the bit about the nighttime orc raid hadn't been this bad.

"Uncle?" Kíli asked cautiously. Thorin turned to him with pain-filled blue eyes and Kíli had to swallow to control himself. Somehow what he had said had hurt his uncle deeply. He wasn't sure how. He knew now that words could hurt but it had been so little; was his uncle truly so fragile?

"I really am sorry," Kíli repeated. "Do you . . . do you forgive me?" In that moment, Kíli looked so much like he had years ago when he was pleading for forgiveness that Thorin couldn't resist him, especially since it wasn't truly Kíli that he was angry with: it was himself for allowing Fíli to believe that he was a failure and never realizing that he had done it.

"There's nothing to forgive, little one," Thorin replied gripping Kíli's hand with his own. "Now, let's try to do as we were told. Though for issuing orders to us like that I should go naked just to spite him." Kíli laughed again, his moods shifting like quicksilver and the hurt disappearing in seconds just as it always had.

"What of your reputation, Uncle?" Kíli asked as he slipped the shirt over Thorin's arms as carefully as he could.

"I'm not sure that my reputation can be sullied any more than it already has, Kíli," Thorin said sadly, all trace of good humor gone. "Not after . . . Not since . . ." Kíli wanted to tell Thorin that he was wrong and that everything would be fine and that no one thought any less of him for the whole situation, but he couldn't. His uncle had erred. Greatly. And everyone knew. Instead he offered him what comfort he could.

"Nothing's changed for most of the company, Uncle," Kíli said quietly, unable to look at his uncle as he admitted that he knew the truth. He no longer wanted to rage at Thorin but that didn't stop him from feeling sad and disappointed in all of them—himself included— for failing Fíli as they had.

"What do you mean?" Thorin demanded sharply letting out a hiss as Kíli pulled his shirt over his head and straightened it.

"They knew," Kíli whispered. "They . . . they've always known."

"Who's 'they', Kíli? And what have they always known?" Thorin asked.

"I don't really know," the young heir replied. "I know that Balin and Dwalin always knew, so that probably means that Óin and Glóin did too. And Dwalin said that Mother knows. I don't know who else. But I think it was really only news to me."

"What was news, lad?" Thorin demanded, his stomach sinking as he realized what Kíli was talking about and praying to the Maker that he was wrong.

"You and Fíli," Kíli replied simply. "I think I was the only one that didn't know. Well, maybe Bilbo didn't."

"You weren't," Thorin whispered looking away. "I wasn't aware of my behavior either. I want you to know . . . I would _never_ have done that on purpose. I _do_ love your brother. As much as I love you and your mother. The three of you are all I have."

"Then why did you do it?" Kíli asked firmly. "If you love him like you love me why didn't you show him like you showed me?" Thorin was silent for a time and Kíli began to realize that he had just asked a very rude question.

"I'm sorry," Kíli said. "You don't have to answer that, Uncle. You don't have to explain yourself to me. I shouldn't have asked."

"No," Thorin agreed. "I don't have to; but I will." He paused and took as deep a breath as he could before he looked at Kíli and prayed that this conversation went better with him than it had his brother. He couldn't lose Kíli again. Not so soon. Not after he'd lost Fíli and Dís. But he also didn't want to hide his mistakes from his nephew.

"My excuse isn't a good one," Thorin said, staring into Kíli's eyes—Dís's eyes, Frerin's eyes—as he confessed his greatest failing of his family. "It's not even an adequate one. I daresay it's not even a _paltry_ one." Thorin paused again. "I've already told Fíli this and he found it less than comforting. I fear what you'll think of me when you know the truth as well but . . . I can't bring myself to lie to you, Kíli. Even by omission."

"The reason that I was never as warm to your brother as I am to you is because Fíli looks too much like _my_ brother," Thorin replied. "It was cruel and _stupid_ of me."

"That doesn't make sense, Uncle," Kíli replied. "Why would Fíli looking like your brother make you dislike him. I'd think that as much as you miss him it would make you like him more. I just look like Mother. You see her all the time."

"You're missing the point, lad," Thorin sighed shaking his head sadly. It shouldn't have mattered which of them looked like which of his siblings. He _should_ have been able to love them as themselves rather than mix them up in the troubles of his past based on who they looked like. "It was hard because I _killed_ my brother. I'm the reason he's dead. "

"No," Kíli said shaking his head with a look of confused disgust on his face. "Mother said he was killed by orcs at the Battle of Azanulbizar. Orcs killed him. Not you."

"The orcs may have done the deed but I made it easier for them, Kíli," Thorin said before he gave a sad laugh. "You and I are too much alike, little one. We're both stubborn, arrogant, rash. Kíli, the look on Fíli's face when you said what you did in the caves, do you remember it?"

"I keep trying not to," Kíli replied sadly. "Maybe if I don't think about it I can forget it. He . . . he was so hurt. So . . ."

"You'll never be able to forget it, lad," Thorin said, his voice little more than a whisper. "It's been more than a hundred years and I can still remember the look on my brother's face when I said nearly the same thing to him. I called him a coward for not wanting to charge into battle against orcs as a child. I told him that he wasn't my brother. That he wasn't worthy of his place in the succession and that even if he did ever get the chance to rule he would fail to be able to rally the people behind him. Then I . . . I told him I never wanted to see him again." Thorin sighed, tears clinging to his lashes as he admitted everything that he had done to his brother to his nephew.

Kíli watched in shock as his uncle cried. He'd never seen Thorin cry before. Once more he felt that he was seeing something that he wasn't meant to.

"I . . . I never did, Kíli," Thorin said once he felt he was able, though his voice was still choked with unshed tears. "Not alive anyway. He died that day and I _never_ got to tell him that I hadn't meant it. I didn't mean any of what I said. I was . . . scared—no, not scared, _terrified_. But I had no way out of the situation and here was my brother, my sweet, _foolish_ baby brother, telling me to run to Father and Grandfather and demand as their heir that they stop the battle. I couldn't do it. They wouldn't have stopped, even if I'd asked and . . . and I was afraid they would think less of me if I did. So I didn't."

"I wanted to, but I didn't," Thorin sighed. "Instead, I lashed out at the one person I shouldn't have. I wanted to rage at my father and grandfather, ask the questions of them that Frerin asked of me. I wanted to ask _why_ they thought we needed to retake Khazad-dûm. . . but I didn't. Instead, I raged at Frerin for suggesting it in the first place. I cursed him for suggesting what was _best_ for our people. What was _right_. I drove him away from me and it resulted in his death."

Kíli sat in silence for a moment, taking in the fact that his uncle had made the same mistake that he did. His uncle had also disowned his brother. His uncle had betrayed his own brother. But there was one difference in their situation: Fíli wasn't dead yet. But if he had died . . . Kíli could see where his uncle was coming from. If Fíli had died because of Kíli's words . . . he never would have been able to forgive himself. He shuddered to think what would have happened if one of his sons had looked anything like his brother and with their father being a blonde it was possible and blue eyes did run in the family. If that had happened. . . Kíli wasn't sure that he could live with it.

Thorin watched Kíli's face carefully as he digested what he had just been told preparing himself for the moment that hatred filled his nephew's eyes and Kíli stormed off as Fíli had done just a bit before. It never came. Instead, Kíli looked at him with what almost looked like _pity. _It was a look that he had seen on Dís' face before but never Kíli's.

"You didn't kill him," Kíli finally said, his brown eyes soft. "Even if you hadn't said that, he might have died, Uncle. You said he was a child," Kíli paused to snort. "None of us here are . . . well, _I_ am. But I'm nearly and adult and that's not the point. Anyway, we're all adults and we're _running_ from orcs. They probably would have killed him anyway and you too trying to protect him."

Thorin's mouth opened in shock that _that_ was what Kíli would choose to say now. Thorin shook his head. He'd heard the same argument before. Dís always said the same thing when this topic came up.

"You sound like your mother. Did she tell you to say that?" Thorin asked with a sad smile. He wouldn't have put it past his sister to tell one of her sons to tell him that if this came up on the quest.

"No," Kíli replied. "We've never discussed this, Uncle. This is the first I've heard of it."

"It's not like it matters," Thorin whispered. "Regardless of who killed him, Frerin is dead and Fíli . . . I can never apologize enough to erase what I did. I can _never_ make it up to him." Kíli was quiet for a moment as he tried to think of how to say what he wanted to without hurting his uncle before deciding that had just needed to say it.

"There's one difference, Uncle," Kíli eventually said, swallowing before he could finish as Thorin's blue eyes bored into him. "Fíli's not dead. He's still alive. If you _try_ then . . . maybe . . ." he trailed off with a small shrug and an awkward half-smile, unwilling to say that Fíli would forgive their uncle.

"Sometimes I forget just how young you still are," Thorin replied, his tone gentle. Kíli waited for an explanation but none came. He was just about to ask for one when their private conversation was interrupted by the company. Balin took one look at the two of them still where he had left them and raised an eyebrow at Kíli.

"I couldn't get him up," Kíli replied. "I can barely get _me_ up." Balin nodded, feeling shame was through him that he had forgotten about Kíli's own injuries and making a mental note to see to them at the next rest stop.

"It's alright, lad," Balin said. "We'll get him up." Despite his words, Balin made no move towards Thorin even when Dori was already at the king's side. Dori looked up, waiting for someone else to come help him but none was coming. Bofur looked torn between helping and not overstepping himself, but the others just looked uncomfortable and Thorin's cousins looked nearly hostile.

"Do you think you can get to your feet with just my help, Thorin?" Dori asked quietly his words just for the King. "I don't think we'll be getting any more help. They seem . . . unsettled."

"I can try," Thorin replied, having sensed the same discontent that Dori was, before trying to fold his legs under him so that he could get to his feet without the use of his arms. It was rapidly clear that this was not going to work. Dori may have been strong, but Thorin was heavy and too weak to be much help in the process. Just as Dori was about to insist that one of the other's help him, a flash of gold beside him caught his attention.

"Switch sides with me," Fíli ordered. "I can help but I need to be able to use my left hand." Dori nodded and did as he was told. Through the combined efforts of Fíli, Dori and Thorin, the king was on his feet once more. Even once he was on his feet, Thorin clung to them for a moment, resting his head on Fíli's shoulder and trying to prepare himself to move. Through it all, Fíli's face remained blank, though his jaw clinched when Thorin clung to him in a parody of an embrace. After what felt like an eternity to the blonde heir, Thorin released him and stood on his own power.

"Thank you," the king said, looking at Dori first before his eyes landed on Fíli. The sight of his nephew hurt him. With his hair pulled back like Kíli's, Thorin could see a resemblance between Fíli and Dís that he had never known was there but more than that, with his hair styled more like Víli's, Fíli looked just like his father. He didn't resemble Frerin, not truly. There were similarities, but those were just the common features that Dís had shared with their brother. Thorin didn't know how he'd never seen it before. Fíli didn't look like Frerin. Other than the blonde hair, he was a mix of Víli and _Dís_, just as he should have been. Frerin wasn't there, just the features that were uniquely _Fíli_.

"Thank you, Fíli," Thorin said again, a bit disturbed by the passionless non-expression on Fíli's face. He didn't know what it meant. He'd never seen anything so cold on Fíli's face before. There was always some twinkle of mischief, some sign of life. Not this blankness. He didn't understand it.

Thorin may not have, but Kíli had. And to see it now terrified him. He'd only ever seen it once before but he still remembered it. This was Fíli's 'I'm furious with you but I'm not going to yell because it won't do any good anyway' expression. The _one_ time Kíli had seen it before had been when they were children and another boy, Dorin, had said something horrible about Kíli's parentage and their mother's supposed lack of discretion in bedfellows. One moment Fíli had been smiling and the next . . . he'd worn the same expression he did now. Fíli had said nothing to the boy but the next day at weapon's practice, Dwalin had had to drag him off the boy. Kíli had thought that his brother had killed Dorin but then he had stirred. Dorin didn't come back to practice for over a week. Fíli had been severely punished for nearly killing another student—he refused to tell their mother why he had done it and forbade Kíli from doing so, as he said it would hurt her more to know—and Kíli had never seen Fíli make that face ever again until this day. And now he was making it at their uncle.

But then Fíli spoke and Kíli's worry for his uncle was pushed away in his shock at what his brother said.

"You're welcome, _Thorin_," Fíli said before turning and beginning to walk down the mountain once more.

"_Fíli!_" Kíli squeaked. He couldn't believe what his brother had just done. "Fíli?" He made to go after his brother and demand an explanation but was stopped by a hand on his wrist. He looked back to see Thorin looking at him with sad blue eyes.

"It's alright, lad. Let him go," Thorin said, though the breathless of his voice was caused by more than just the pain of his wounds. He was both shocked and pained by what Fíli had called him but could see where the lad was coming from. He truly had no claim to kinship with Fíli. Not after what he had done.

"But—" Kíli protested, looking at his brother's retreating back before looking back at his uncle with a small noise in his throat.

"At least he's speaking to me," Thorin continued, offering Kíli a sad smile. "It's more than I deserve." Kíli stared at his uncle incredulously. The rest of the company were just as shocked as Kíli and Bilbo and Bofur were wondering if they were the only ones that heard the anger and pain and hint of threat in Fíli's words.

They weren't, but Balin, Dwalin Óin and Glóin were more preoccupied with Thorin's statement that Fíli's threat—as they felt that Fíli might just be justified in anything he wanted to do to Thorin after what the king had said to him. They had taken Thorin's statement to Kíli as a statement of guilt. They took it to mean that Thorin _had_ said to Fíli what Dwalin had said he had.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, new chapter up. I would love to know what you thought of it!**

**Thank you to those of you that reviewed!**

**Anybody:**** I'm glad that you are back as well :) And it look like your one week without the internet was well timed :) I spent a week too busy to write due to school :) And yep. All over and they went swimmingly :) And yep. Thorin is his own biggest enemy at the moment. That and his wounds. And as painful as it is, you are right in saying that it is necessary. For him to even begin to make amends he has to realize exactly what he's done (just like Kili) And no, he's only human (dwarvish?) he can't keep a cool, level head all the time. I would almost argue that he is more fragile than his heirs. Thorin ... he's got issues that even he doesn't realize are there just yet. And you are totally right. If he's not whole, he can't possiably try to fix anyone else. And Kili has made GREAT progress. He now knows what he's capable of even if he's not quite sure how to control it just yet. And he now has some self-control but as we'll see soon, it's not perfect. He learned many things that he needed while tending to Thorin and some that he hasn't even realized he learned yet. And yes, sometimes and honest, "I'm sorry" is the best thing but sometimes... it's not enough. :( And chapter 28 ... Poor Fíli :( And I'm sorry that I made you cry but thank you so much for the compliment! And Fili does need to talk. And you're right. Fili doesn't want to talk about it. He doesn't want to burden anyone else with his problems and this includes Bilbo. And Fili totally does. His mental state and paranoia right now, combined with his anger and the feeling of being betrayed ... it is dangerous to both himself and others. If he doesn't handle this correctly, Fíli could be lost forever to the dark side :( And that is totally Bilbo's appeal as well. He is not part of this. He wasn't there for the betrayal and had nothing to do with any of it. If Fili talks to anyone, Bilbo would be a good choice. Now we just have to hope that Fili will talk to Bilbo. And Dwalin ... he did. He just jumped right in and didn't take a look at just how upset Fili was and how he felt about himself before deciding that Thorin had to have done it. And yeah... by spreading the gossip, Dwalin has opened up a whole new world of problems. It would have actually been better had he just confronted Thorin about it in the first place rather than talking behind his back and turning the others against him. And that is the best summary of this that I have ever heard! I love that "all of them are victims and yet all of them have guilt" Brilliant! That is totally what I was going for! No one has clean hands in this! And I am very glad that you are still enjoying this and hopefully we will read one another again soon :)**

**That's all for now, folks. Again, I would love to hear what you thought!**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	30. We can't go back

As Fíli walked away from Thorin, his heart was racing. He had halfway expected a rebuke of some form from someone other than Kíli for calling Thorin by his given name rather than his familial title. What he hadn't expected had been the quiet pain and acceptance of the change that Thorin had given him. It had almost seemed like Thorin had thought he _deserved_ it. Fíli shook his head and continued on. Despite the confusion this quiet acceptance caused him, it was also strangely liberating.

Without their relationship hanging over them, Thorin's betrayal was easier to understand and accept. While an uncle should never marginalize one nephew while doting on another, a king . . . well, a king could do as he would. Such cool behavior to those not related to him was not only acceptable but even expected. By regulating Thorin to non-kin status, the pain and chaos in Fíli's mind receded a bit and allowed him to think a bit more clearly. He hadn't realized that such a simple change would hold such power.

He had a sudden, vehement wish that the power of that discovery could be used to clear the rest of his confusion but it couldn't. His cousins and brother couldn't be moved from their established relationships as easily as Thorin could. Kíli, for all his faults, was still Fíli's brother. Yes, Kíli had hurt him but, in a way, wasn't the pain simply a sign of the betrayal of that expected relationship. Kíli _should_ have loved him unconditionally, as Fíli loved Kíli. He had been willing to _kill_ his King for his brother and Kíli wasn't even willing to trust him. It still rankled, but with his anger at Thorin fading, Fíli could now see that some of Kíli's anger may have come from feeling betrayed himself.

He could have felt that Fíli was betraying both Kíli and Thorin by breaking so many of the rules that had been set for them. With a wry laugh Fíli thought it was even possible that Kíli had been angry because Fíli hadn't listened to him when he told Fíli to stop. Kíli always had been a petulant little thing. Because surely Kíli hadn't been angry with him for doing exactly what he had done only moments before. He may have said that he was but Kíli had taken up the knife as well. Surely he wasn't such a hypocrite. Strangely, that thought amused Fíli and he felt a smirk cross his face. Kíli, his brother, the petulant hypocrite.

He was pulled out of his thoughts with a flinch as he felt an arm settle around his shoulder. He halfway expected to see Kíli standing there, confusion and hurt in his brown eyes for Thorin's pain, but saw Dwalin there instead. He was suddenly aware of bodies all around him. Feeling slightly panicked, he glanced around and saw Balin to his right, Glóin behind him and Óin beside his brother and behind Dwalin. Fíli flinched again as he realized he was nearly surrounded by Thorin's closest supporters.

_Perhaps I won't get away with that slight after all,_ he thought bitterly. He just knew that they were there to lecture him and try to force him to apologize. He wouldn't do it. There was nothing for _him_ to apologize for. Not this time. If anything, _they_ owed him an apology for how they had treated him, though he knew that he would never get it. He was too far below them to merit an apology. They were his instructors, his elders, he wasn't worthy of their apology and knew that he would have to endure their lecturing and whatever punishment they chose to dole out when he refused to comply.

Even so, he couldn't help but feel furious with them. He knew that it wasn't right of him to hold them accountable for Thorin's actions and that he should be strong enough to separate them from it but he couldn't. And he couldn't explain it away by simple miscategorization. Even if they were removed from kin status, they were all still instructor. They _should_ have had his best interests at heart, which they clearly hadn't if they had known and done nothing. It made him wonder why they hadn't. Wasn't he worth the trouble to them? Was he really so worthless that they couldn't spare a few words to Thorin, or his mother? They _should_ have told his mother what they knew even if they couldn't bring themselves to invoke their kinship to Thorin to make him listen. _She _would have. She could have made Thorin listen even if they weren't able to. Thorin loved her. He would have listened to her.

But they hadn't. They hadn't said or done _anything_. They'd just stood by and _watched_. And now that he had _finally_ said something about it himself, they were there _disapproving_ of his actions. He could feel their disapproval like a vice, squeezing the air from his lungs and trapping him. And suddenly all he wanted was to drop to his knees and beg them to forgive him for it. A small part of him whispered that he had done the right thing, but the rest of him _screamed_ that he had failed yet again.

Balin noticed as Fíli's breathing sped and a small whimper escaped the young heir. At first glance, Fíli looked fine, however as he looked closer, he noticed that the blonde was biting his lip beneath his beard and that his fists were clinched and that his breathing was impossibly shallow and quick. He placed a gentle hand on Fíli's arm, hating himself when the young dwarf twitched nearly aggressively away from him.

"I didn't mean to do it," Fíli said almost desperately. "I shouldn't have. I . . . I'll apologize. Later but I will. Please don't be angry."

"I'm not angry with you, lad," Balin replied. "You did nothing wrong."

"And you don't owe him anything," Dwalin added. "Let alone an apology. He was the one to reject your kinship. You simply honored his wishes. We're with you in this, Fíli."

"With me?" Fíli said slowly almost as if he hadn't understood them.

"Aye, lad," Glóin said reaching up to clap him on the shoulder. "We're with you."

The words had the opposite effect than they had expected. Rather than be comforted, Fíli pulled further away and began radiating anger once more as he wondered just what they were trying to accomplish. Was this truly a show of solidarity or was it simply that they thought him so _weak_ that he would need support after such a decision? And a more pressing question in his mind—as he knew that they knew he was weak—had they done it to help him or to hurt Thorin? As that thought crossed his mind, the anger morphed into fury.

He knew that he truly had no right to be angry with them for hurting Thorin as he knew that his own words had. He had known they would before he ever said them, but at least his hurting their king had had a reason. _He_ had done it to show Thorin that their relationship had changed without having to say it directly and force his king to hear him disown him as Kíli had forced him to hear it. He knew that they would hurt, but they had also served another purpose. Thorin had asked for forgiveness and reclassifying him was the only way that Fíli knew to give it. If Thorin were his uncle, it was unforgivable. If not . . . well, it wasn't. What was their reason?

Was it because of what had happened between Thorin and Fíli? The very thing that they had stood by and _allowed_ to happen? Fíli scoffed at the thought. That was none of their business. It was between the two of them and it had been sorted. Mostly. _They_ had no right to involve themselves now that Fíli no longer needed them: now that he was standing up for himself. Where were they for the past _seventy_ years? Where were they when he was a _child_? Why were they choosing to do something now when the damage had already been done? It wasn't as if they could erase it by supporting him now that he was beginning to stand on his own.

No. _They_ had no right to abandon Thorin now. To leave him with no kin besides Kíli for help. It wasn't fair to Kíli. He could barely handle himself at the moment, let alone someone as gravely injured as Thorin. It had taken both Fíli and _Dwalin_ to keep him on his feet that morning. Kíli wasn't as strong as either of them on a good day, let alone as injured as he was. They were asking things of him that he could never do and seeing his brother set up to fail, as he had been so many times, enraged the young heir. And to add on top of that that they had betrayed their _King_ when Thorin needed them the most. This was something that Fíli could not accept.

All of these thoughts flew through his mind and it was only a few moments after Glóin had spoken that Fíli asked, "What if I don't want you?"

"Come again?" Balin said, his tone clearly showing his shock.

"I said, 'what if I don't want you"," Fíli repeated. "What if I don't want your support now? What if I wanted it before when you were too busy to care enough to give it?"

"We always cared," Balin said gently. "We just—"

"You _cared_!?" Fíli scoffed. "That's why you waited for _all_ of _this_ to happen _before_ you said anything to Thorin about it? You cared, did you?"

"We cared, lad," Dwalin said, trying to calm Fíli without breaking his promise to Kíli in the process. He knew that this time Kíli was right. Fíli was too unstable for the truth. It would irreparably break him. They didn't have time for that at the moment and maybe later, when he was calmer, the damage would not be quite so bad.

"You have no idea how hard—" Dwalin said only to be cut off.

"I don't!?" Fíli demanded spinning to face him. "You _dare_ to tell me that I don't know how hard the situation was? I _lived_ it. I know _exactly_ how hard it was. Do you!? Do you have _any_ idea what it's like to _never_ be good enough. For everything you do to be met with half-approval and criticism on how you could have done better while anything your brother touches is _praised_ as if Mahal himself had done it? Do you know what it's like to be shot down _every_ _time_ you suggest something only for someone else to make the same suggestion and it be accepted? You don't. So forgive me if I have no interest in hearing just how _hard_ it was for _you_."

He stared from one shocked face to the next and felt no remorse for what he had just said. What had they expected? Him to be _grateful_?

"Go back to Thorin," Fíli snapped. "Maybe he'll appreciate your support. I don't." With that he turned and stalked down the mountain once more, attempting to find a path in the trackless woods. Balin made to go after him but Dwalin stopped him with an arm across his chest.

"Let him go, Brother," he said, his tone making it clear just how much Fíli's rejection had hurt him. "He's angry and needs space. Let him be a bit. He's still within sight of the group." Balin nodded and the cousins agreed to give Fíli his space, allowing Dori, Nori and Ori to move between them and Fíli but not falling back far enough to join Thorin's group. Despite what Fíli had ordered, they couldn't bring themselves to go back to Thorin. Not when it was all his fault that Fíli was in such pain in the first place.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The march that day was not an easy one for any of them. They were all exhausted, emotionally and physically, and the tension in the group was thick enough as to be tangible. The tension between the king and his heirs was expected but the development of tensions between Thorin and his cousins was unexpected. Even if he didn't know exactly _what_ had happened, Bofur knew that something had occurred between Fíli and Thorin and that the others had taken Fíli's side on the matter because no sooner had the blonde heir walked away, than the others cast Thorin a look filled with loathing and followed Fíli, clustering around him similarly to how they had always clustered around his uncle, not noticing the panicked and hostile look the young dwarf shot them as they did.

"Kíli?" Bofur asked nudging his head towards the cluster of the lad's kin with his eyebrow raised as he silently asked if he knew what was happening.

"No idea," Kíli replied. "Uncle?" Thorin shook his head before gripping Kíli forearm tightly and forcing himself to take a step.

"I don't know, little one," Thorin panted, putting more of his weight on Kíli than was comfortable and causing Kíli's face to pinch in pain as it pulled at his own wounds. His last tussle with Dwalin had truly been a bad idea. Things had either reopened or torn further and he could feel the blood trickling down his back but ignored it, knowing that his uncle was in more pain than he was and needed him at the moment. There wasn't anyone else, though he wished there were so that he could go talk to Fíli and try to calm him before the worst happened. _**If**__ he'll talk to me_, he mentally added, knowing that it was a very real possibility that Fíli wouldn't.

Bofur had seen Kíli's discomfort and moved to Thorin's other side and laid a gentle hand on his arm to get his attention. When the King's pain-clouded blue eyes fell on him, it was everything Bofur could do to keep the pity from his gaze. He knew that Thorin wouldn't appreciate that in the least.

"I can help too," Bofur offered quietly. "If you'd like."

"You don't have to," Thorin reminded him. "Kíli and I . . . we'll be slower than the rest. They may not wait for us. Not after what happened today." Bofur didn't know what had happened that day, but he had a solution to the problem.

"They'll wait," he said before lifting his fingers to his mouth and giving a shrill whistle. "Bombur, Bifur!" His brother and cousin stopped and waited for them to catch up. "We have their cook. They'll wait." Thorin chuckled quietly and placed his arm over Bofur's with a small smile and nod of thanks.

"That's evil," Kíli said appreciatively as Bilbo said, "Remind me not to get on your bad side. Holding the food hostage. That's barbaric." Bofur smiled and gave Bilbo a smirk.

"Barbaric or not, it'll keep them with us," Bofur said, his tone showing he had taken no offence at Bilbo's words. "Besides, not all of us are as fond of food as you are, Master Hobbit." He kept his tone light, though he saw the argument that was going on at the front of the group. It seemed Fíli had finally gotten sick of being crowded. He gave an almost amused half-laugh as the one young dwarf cowed for fully grown dwarves, and three of them warriors besides. Fíli had fire, he'd have to give him that. And the lad was lethal. But he was mostly harmless, if you didn't back him into a corner like Kíli was so prone to do. As long as you respected his space and backed off when the signs were there, Fíli wasn't dangerous. Not really.

He did have to wonder if those four idiots taking to him would realize they were being warned or if there was about to be yet more blood spilt. He felt Thorin tense beside him and looked up to see that the King's blue eyes were fixed on the feud as well. Thorin hardly seemed to breathe as he waited to see what would happen. The tension in him pulled Kíli from his banter with Bilbo and caused him to look up, his eyes widening in fear as he realized just how much danger there actually was from his brother at the moment. Fíli was in a volatile mood at the moment and they were crowding him. His cheek throbbed at the memory of what had happened the last time he had crowded his brother.

And then it was over. There was a collective sigh of relief when Fíli turned and stormed off. They knew it was a fight that he wouldn't have won, but he still could have done some damage before he was subdued. They tried to alleviate the tension they felt by turning to banter once more, but it felt flat, forced and soon died out into silence. A silence in which none of them noticed the absence of a higher pitched voice or the person who it belonged to.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Bilbo crept along beside the company until he was even with Fíli and then stepped up next to him. He stayed there silently until Fíli looked at him with a small sad smile.

"Why aren't you with Kíli and Thorin?" Fíli asked softly.

"They had more than enough company," Bilbo replied with a shrug. "Bofur is with them and recruited his brother and cousin as hostages to ensure that the company waits for them. Says you won't run off and leave your cook." Fíli gave a small laugh at that. Good old Bofur. Always thinking with his stomach. Fíli honestly thought he did it more than Bombur, no matter how much heavier the second was.

"So why'd you come up here?" Fíli asked. "I'm certain they'll be more fun that I am. Bofur is always good for a laugh or two and so is Kíli."

"Kíli's not much for laughing lately," Bilbo replied. "And at any rate, I figured you need the company more. I can leave again if you'd like."

"No," Fíli said quietly. "Stay. Please." Bilbo nodded and fell into step beside the dwarf. Fíli sighed.

"Do you _want_ to talk about what just happened?" Bilbo asked. "If not, we can talk about whatever you'd like. Or not talk at all. I'm fine either way."

"Which thing?" Fíli asked.

"Either, any, all," Bilbo replied. "Whatever you'd like." Fíli was shocked at that. No one had ever let him pick what he wanted to talk about. Kíli always rambled and just expected Fíli to come along with him and keep up with his crazy thoughts. Thorin had always set the terms of the discussion, as had most of the older dwarves. The only real exception had been his mother and she never really gave him a choice on whether or not he was going to talk. She _acted_ like she was, but he knew that she wouldn't leave him be until he did. But Bilbo . . . he really meant it. If Fíli didn't want to talk he wasn't going to force the issue. It was this that decided him.

"I hate them," Fíli muttered. "Well, maybe hate isn't the right word. I . . . I don't want to see them hurt, any of them but . . . I . . . I _resent_ them."

"Them?" Bilbo asked, wondering if he was referring to Thorin and Kíli or someone else.

"My cousins," Fíli replied. He sighed before he continued. "I . . . I think they knew. I think they've known for a while."

"Known what exactly?" Bilbo replied, wondering just what Fíli was talking about.

"That Thorin doesn't love me," Fíli said as if it were the simplest truth in the world. "That he never has. He's always loved Kíli but never me. He . . . he told me that it was because of his brother."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Bilbo asked. He didn't believe for one second that Thorin didn't love Fíli—there was no way that the king could have looked at the younger dwarf sleeping in his lap with such softness just a bit ago if he didn't—but he knew that disagreeing with Fíli would make him stop and knew that the dwarf needed to tell someone.

"Apparently I look like Frerin and Thorin blames himself for his death," Fíli said sadly before giving a bitter laugh and continuing. "Just because I was born with blonde hair."

"Blonde hair?" Bilbo asked. While it was true that most hobbits had brown hair, blonde hair wasn't so rare as to be a reason to shun a child in his culture. He wondered if it was different for the dwarves. "I'm sure there are many dwarves with blonde hair. Thorin can't hate them all."

"There aren't," Fíli replied. "I've only ever seen two others in our branch and one was my father. I only know of four. Me, my father, the dwarrowdam from town and my uncle."

"Anyway, that's a silly reason to hate someone," Bilbo countered.

"He doesn't hate me," Fíli said his voice sounding more childish and vulnerable than Bilbo had ever heard it, "and I . . . I don't hate him. He just . . . he doesn't love me or see me as kin. He sees me as an heir. Nothing more."

"Did he tell you that?" Bilbo asked. Fíli shook his head.

"Some things don't have to be said, Bilbo," Fíli replied. "Some things you just know."

"Is that why you're calling him 'Thorin' now?" the hobbit asked gently. Fíli nodded.

"It makes it easier to remind myself that I'm not his nephew," Fíli said, his voice showing just how much that though bothered him, even if his eyes were dry. "Kíli's always held his heart, he can keep it. I never had a claim to it anyway. I can just be his heir. That's enough and I'm content with what I have." Fíli didn't seem content, he seemed unbearably sad but again Bilbo didn't correct him. It wasn't the time for that.

"And your angry with your cousins because . . . "

"I think they stood by and let it happen," Fíli said quietly. "I think they saw that he was being unfair and let him do it because . . . because I wasn't worth it to them to do otherwise. I didn't matter." Bilbo wanted to tell the young fragile dwarf beside him that he was sure that wasn't true but he wasn't and he refused to lie to Fíli.

"What would you have had them do?" Bilbo asked gently, looking at Fíli with brown eyes filled with compassion.

"I don't know," Fíli said in a lost little voice with a shrug. "Tell my mother. Tell Thorin. Tell _me._ Anything besides stand by and let it happen. For years I thought that I was imagining things. And Mother told me that Thorin was a bit colder to me but that it was because he was trying to mold me into an heir. I didn't know for sure until the caves when Thorin urged me to do as I was told despite seeing how much what I was doing bothered me. "For Kíli," he said. "Do it for Kíli." Well, I did and now Kíli fears me."

"The caves aren't why he fears you," Bilbo replied honestly. "He fears you because you cut him. But he still loves you. He loves you more than he fears you."

"No offence, Bilbo," Fíli said, "but I don't think you know what you're talking about. Kíli fears me more than he loves me. That's why he hasn't spent more than five minutes with me all day. Not that I blame him. I'd fear me." He scoffed. "_You_ fear me."

"Not at the moment," Bilbo said. "And I don't count. I'm afraid of everything. A cricket landed on me the other day and I nearly stabbed myself trying to fight it off." It had the effect that Bilbo had wanted and Fíli gave a small laugh. "When I haven't startled you into pulling daggers, I don't fear you. There's nothing _to_ fear."

Fili said nothing but in his mind he disagreed with Bilbo. There was plenty to fear. Even _he_ wasn't sure what he would do next and that thought alone was enough to make him fear himself, even if Bilbo didn't.

**ooOO88OOoo**

They continued walking until dusk was upon them, at which point they stopped again to rest. Dinner was a bit better than lunch had been as Bifur had used Kíli's bow to bring down a few squirrels and a quail while Nori had gotten a couple of small birds with his throwing knives as they walked and Bilbo had once again found them some edible plants to go in the stew. They were all bone weary as they sank down to the ground that night, not even bothering to drag over large logs to sit on, and ate their meals.

Then there was a bit of a debate on how to do this. They knew that they needed to keep watch, but they also knew that they needed to be moving out in a couple of hours and no one was willing to go entirely without sleep until they next had the opportunity to rest. Eventually Gandalf volunteered to take the watch and wake them all in a couple of hours to continue on. No one protested.

Kíli stayed beside his uncle during all of this, trying to make him as comfortable as possible, placing his own unused coat behind his uncle to attempt to pad the tree and make it easier for him to lean against. But even as he was wrapping the blanket around his uncle, his eyes kept drifting to his brother where Fíli was lying alone at the edge of the firelight. Thorin saw where Kíli's eyes were and placed a gentle hand on his elbow to stop him as Kíli made to kneel beside him.

"Uncle?" Kíli asked looking at him in confusion.

"Go to your brother. I know you want to," Thorin said. "I'll be fine."

"But you'll be cold," Kíli protested. "That's only a thin blanket, Uncle, and you did lose quite a bit of blood."

"It won't matter," Thorin replied. "It's not as if you can share your body heat, little one. I'm in no state to cuddle tonight. Go to him. He needs you more than I do." Kíli looked uncertain for a moment before he spoke.

"What if he rejects me?" he asked, his voice little more than a whisper of sound that could almost have been imagined.

"Then come back," Thorin said simply. "It is not that you are not welcome here, Kíli. I . . . I just think that you are _needed_ there. Alright?" Kíli nodded and turned to walk towards his brother. Thorin watched him go, praying to any that would listen that Fíli would not reject his brother. They needed one another more than they could ever know and he hoped they would never have to learn that lesson. Not like he had.

Kíli walked over, knowing that Fíli would send him away once more but just like earlier, he needed to try. Maybe Fíli would surprise him. Every step he took, he knew that was not a likely possibility. Fíli had surprised him once that day, it wouldn't happen twice.

"What do you want this time, Kíli?" Fíli asked without opening his eyes.

"Do I have to want something?" Kíli asked in response.

"No," Fíli said cracking open a blue eye and looking up at his brother. "You don't _have_ to but you usually do. What is it this time?"

"Can . . . can I sleep here?" Kíli asked hesitantly, picking at his fingernails rather than making eye contact with Fíli.

"Everyone else turn you down?" Fíli asked snidely.

"No," Kíli said defensively looking up with hurt in his brown eyes that Fíli would think he was Kíli's last choice. "I didn't ask anyone else. I _want _to sleep with you. Just like we always have. I can't sleep alone."

"Then go sleep with Bilbo and Bofur like you did yesterday," Fíli replied harshly. He hated himself for hurting Kíli yet again. "Then you wouldn't be alone."

"I didn't like sleeping with them," Kíli said, sounding much like he had three days ago as he tried to wheedle what he wanted from his brother. "Bofur snores and Bilbo . . . he likes to cuddle."

"So do you," Fíli replied with a shrug. "You both snore and like to cuddle. You should fit in just fine."

"I don't," Kíli replied. "They're not you. Can't I stay, Fee? Please. Just tonight? It's only a few hours anyway and I think we'll both sleep better if we try to pretend things are still normal."

"But they're not, Kíli," Fíli said sadly, looking up at his baby brother who had betrayed him. "They aren't and they never will be. We can't go back. Not really. I . . . I don't trust you and you fear me. Do you really think we can sleep together anymore?"

"Won't know unless we try, will we?" Kíli asked hopefully. Fíli sighed before scooting over a bit and patting the ground next to him. Kíli gave him a happy smile before going to find his pack and bring over his bedding. Fíli was a bit shocked that Kíli hadn't just brought it with him in the first place and wondered what his brother would have done had he said no. Within moments Kíli was sprawled out beside his brother, his head on Fíli's shoulder and his arm across his chest to tangle in his blonde hair. Just as it always had, Fíli's right hand came up to tangle in Kíli's hair as well while his left moved to rest in the small of Kíli's back.

With a wince, Fíli pulled back his right hand, the attempt to grip Kíli's hair having pulled the break at the same time as Kíli hissed and arched away from the pressure on his back. Fíli let his right hand rest on the top of Kíli's head and his left on his own stomach. It was just as he had said. Things were not the same. Even so, Kíli's breathing began to even out just as it had every other night as he had drifted off to sleep like this.

"Kíli?" Fíli muttered. His brother hummed in response, too far gone to articulate an answer. "Snore in my ear and I'll beat you," Fíli threatened, just as he had every night before. It never helped. Kíli always snored and Fíli never beat him for it. At that little bit of normalcy, Kíli nuzzled his shoulder and moved a bit closer.

"Love you, Fee," Kíli muttered.

"Good night, Kíli," Fíli replied unable to say what he always had. He didn't hate Kíli but he didn't trust him and without trust could he truly say that he loved him?

**ooOO88OOoo**

Thorin watched as his nephews bedded down together. For the first time, he felt _true_ hope that they would recover from this. He had feared that Fíli would reject Kíli but that had been unfounded. Even as hope awoke for Fíli forgiving Kíli he had none for himself. Fíli would never forgive him. His words that afternoon had said as much. Thorin had received the message. By calling him by his given name, Fíli effectively disowned him as family. There was no going back from that. Thorin knew. He could never earn Fíli's forgiveness. Not now. But if he could forgive Kíli and continue to behave civilly to Thorin. That was more than the King could ask for. Even with such depressing thoughts for company, he slipped into sleep with a small smile on his face for all that Fíli and Kíli had accomplished that day.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well, that all for this chapter folk. And the end of day 2. Don't worry, things will begin to speed up here shortly and we won't be doing these giant 15 chapter days. *sighs* I can't believe I've been doing that. Anyway. I'd love to hear what you think!**

**And thank you to those of you that reviewed the last one!'**

**Anybody: **** I'm glad that you're back and still enjoying this enough to offer me praise! You are more than welcome and that only makes it more spectacular that you did it! And you are not the only one. Quite a few people are out for Dwalin's blood at the moment. He did do the exact same thing as Kíli but at least he had a **_**bit**_** more to go on. Not much but a bit more. But you're totally right. He had no business telling anyone else. And Dwalin does have a soft spot for both of the boys but especially Fili since Thorin was so cold to him even though Fili does hold him at arm's length. Great job picking up on that! And he really does think that's something that Thorin would say when he's in pain. Thorin's a bit snippy on a good day but in pain . . . he has the capacity to say very hurtful things (just like Kili( or any of us really)). And that's exactly what Dwalin said. Balin just jumped right on it. And I think you're right. I think that they just want a clear villian and Thorin could be that person. It also keeps them from having to look too closely at their own actions. And Thorin did need someone and Kili was perfect at the moment as he can identify somewhat. And yeah . . . I still can't get over the fact that KILI is the one hope I have of fixing all of this. That still floors me. And that was a huge blow to Thorin, that Fili doesn't look like Frerin. And oh no. Thorin can't EVER tell Fili that. Not even once he's stable. That would break him. He'll just have to take that knowledge to his grave. Ha! That is wonderful! Gotta love the random song popping up at opportune times :) And that's not planned for him, don't worry. And he is. Fili is difficult to get close to and there are places even Kili isn't allowed. And Kili did see it, but that doesn't mean that he saw what he thought he did. Yes, in a blind rage Fili is dangerous but it may not be to who Kili thought. And that is true as well. Fili is rather passive-agressive. And I don't mind confusing reviews at all :) Thank you for taking the time to try ot put your words into thoughts:)**

**And that's all for now folks. As always, I would love to know what you thought!**

**Stickdonkeys**


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